


Sniper and Hacker

by Amethystina



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Gen, M/M, So ratings and warnings will wary, This is a collection of stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7311382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of shorter Cougar/Jensen drabbles (prompted by various followers) that I have previously only posted on my Tumblr. Since I'm quite proud of them, I figured they deserve to be posted on AO3 as well. Not to mention that I suspect that a lot of you would like to read them.</p><p>Each chapter is a separate story and they range between 500-3500 words. Ratings and warnings will be given in the author's note at the beginning of each chapter, and more will be added as I write them.</p><p>Enjoy, my lovelies <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Partners In Crime

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt by[Mnemmy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemmy):** _I wish you would write a fic where the first time Cougar meets Jensen it's because their daughters got in trouble for banding together and beating up a bully. (There is a dearth of both kidfic and single parent fic in the Losers fandom)_
> 
>  **Rating/Warnings:** G / Mentions of bullying
> 
>  **Notes:** I had _so much fun_ writing this and I can assure you that both daughters will feature in more fics, if I ever find a way for them to be there. I _adore_ these girls. [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/123768185307/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-the-first-time)

 

Jake burst into the principal's office with more gusto than was probably appropriate.

"Jazmine Josephine Jensen! My darling daughter and light of my life — what have you done this time?" he happily exclaimed as he marched up to Jazz and kissed her blonde head.

"Daaad," she whined in protest, but, since she didn't push him away, he decided to consider it a win. The day she refused to let him coddle her was the day his heart would be irreparably broken.

"You are late, Mr. Jensen," Principal Johnson snapped disapprovingly.

"Well, you only gave me, like, twenty minutes to get from halfway across town and traffic's a pain this time of day." As he was talking, Jake's gaze travelled to the final two occupants in the room, both sitting in chairs facing the principal, like Jazz. Jake recognized Gabi — Jazz's best friend since she started high school three months ago — but the man in the chair furthest away was new.

Jake would remember if they had met before.

"Hi, I'm Jake Jensen — Jazz's dad," he introduced himself, holding out his hand above the heads of the two teenage girls. Had Jake still been twenty, he would probably have stammered at the sight of such a handsome man, but when nearing forty? Well, that hardly seemed dignified.

The man's smile was somewhat reserved, but he accepted the handshake nonetheless.

"Carlos Alvarez."

Mr. Alvarez's grip was firm and confident — just the way Jake liked it. He decided not to acknowledge the telltale shiver that travelled down his spine.

"Gabriela's dad, I take it?" Jake asked as he took a seat, completely ignoring the red-faced principal. Jake received a nod in reply and that seemed to be the end of that.

"Mr. Jensen, are you quite finished?" The principal was clearly losing his patience and, for the sake of his daughter, Jake decided to be polite and waved for the man to go ahead. Principal Johnson cleared his throat and placed his laced hands on his desk, apparently trying to appear commanding.

Too bad Jake had met bunny slippers that looked more intimidating.

"Mr. Jensen, Mr. Alvarez, you are called here today because your daughters attacked a boy—"

"We didn't attack anyone!" Gabi snapped, her anger making her lean forward in her chair. "Nate was picking on Kyle again!" Gabi's gaze flickered to Jazz, who gave a firm nod, both girls raising their chins in defiance. "We made sure he stopped," Gabi all but growled.

"Really?" Jake asked, quite intrigued. "How big is this Nate?"

Jazz's grin was feral.

"He's a senior," she replied smugly. The fact that there wasn't a scratch on her or Gabi said a thing or two — namely that maybe Jake shouldn't have taught his daughter those self-defense techniques after all.

But who was he kidding? He was proud as fuck.

"That's my girl."

Jake knew he shouldn't have — the words just slipped out — but he quite liked seeing Jazz beam with pride.

"Mr. Jensen!" Principal Johnson exclaimed, the unusually high pitch of his voice showing his outrage. "This is no joking matter! The boy had to visit the nurse's office and—"

"So did Kyle, _every single time_ those bullies got their hands on him!" Gabi shot back. "But do you call Nate and _his_ parents to your office? No, you fucki—"

Gabi fell silent so abruptly that Jake had to glance in her direction, only to find that Mr. Alvarez had placed a gentle hand on his daughter's arm. No words were exchanged, but that simple touch was obviously enough to make Gabi settle down. Perhaps it was the almost impossible calm that Mr. Alvarez radiated. The man had yet to speak a word aside from his name, but he seemed completely engaged in the conversation nonetheless.

The principal cleared his throat yet again, the tightness around his mouth showing that he had taken offense to Gabi's outburst.

"This is a very unfortunate incident and we take the matter seriously," Principal Johnson said, enunciating each word with annoying superiority. "We are willing to let the girls off with a warning this time, but we strongly recommend that you take the necessary steps to discipline your daughters — to make sure that this kind of incident doesn't happen again."

"I'm sorry, did you just tell me to _punish_ my daughter? For stopping a bully from beating another kid?" Jake asked, humor fading from his voice. If there was one thing that made his skin crawl, it was the idea that children of any age should be beaten down — be it figuratively or literally.

Jake had far too much personal experience of that to ever want it to happen to Jazz.

Principal Johnson must have noticed the change in Jake's mood considering how hastily he backtracked.

"Not harshly, of course, but the girls were unusually violent for—"

"Girls?" Jake finished, tone scathing. In the corner of his eye, he saw Jazz cross her arms over her chest and he knew the furious look that had to be on her face. Jake might be her father, but she had been raised almost in equal parts by her aunt.

Jake knew no fiercer woman than Jess.

"Well, yes," the principal replied, if a bit haltingly. Principal Johnson swallowed, gaze flickering nervously to Mr. Alvarez, who calmly leaned forward in his chair.

Jake had never seen anyone make that simple gesture look so threatening before. He might be in love.

"I-I mean, it's understandable," Principal Johnson said, "considering their home situations—"

"Excuse me?" Those were the first words Mr. Alvarez had spoken since the conversation started and they were so precise that Jake could almost feel them like a physical touch against his skin.

Principal Johnson looked terrified — with right. There was a lot of protective anger in Mr. Alvarez's voice, making it clear that you had to be suicidal to step between him and his daughter.

"Let me guess," Jake picked up, his smile cold. "You think they need more female influences in their lives, so that they will calm down and become nice, quiet little girls?"

Jazz snorted in disgust, while Principal Johnson hesitated, clearly sensing that he was digging himself into a hole.

"First of all," Jake began, "I am not going to teach my daughter to be anyone but herself. Second, she already _has_ one of the best female role models in the world and, if you like, I can _bring_ said role model next time you call me to your office." Jake kept his voice level despite the anger boiling inside him. "Her daughter Bethany graduated last year, but I think you still remember Jessica Jensen? She has told me _all_ about the lovely chats you two had, and I'm sure she'd love to pick up where you left off."

The way Principal Johnson paled at the mere mention of Jake's sister made both pride and satisfaction curl in Jake's chest.

"That won't be necessary," the principal mumbled weakly. "Maybe I was... hasty, in my judgment."

"Lovely!" Jake clapped his hands, bright smile reappearing on his lips. "Now that we have that settled, I want you to know that I _will_ be changing the WiFi password at home. Fighting at school _is_ against the rules — Jazz knows that."

" _What_?" Jazz exclaimed. "You can't do that!"

"I totally can, young miss, because violence is not the answer and I won't condone the use of it — not even to stop bullies." Jake rose from his chair and easily coaxed his pouting daughter out of hers. Jazz might be tall for her age but she was still just a teenage girl.

"You were in the army!" Jazz argued. "That's violent!"

"Indeed I was," Jake agreed, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. He started herding her towards the door, hoping to leave before the principal changed his mind about letting them go. "But then I quit because I found out that I had this really awesome kid and from the very first time I held her I just _knew_ that my life would never be the same and that I would devote all of my love and—"

"Oh my _God_ , Dad! Shut up!" Jazz tried to sound embarrassed, but the blush growing on her cheeks came from pleasure, if anything.

Jake heard the door to the principal's office click shut behind them and when he turned around he found that Gabi and Mr. Alvarez had also seized the opportunity to flee. Jake grinned when he saw the look on Mr. Alvarez's face. There was a fair share of amusement but, more so than that, he seemed impressed.

"I hope you don't mind that I took care of that," Jake said, facing Mr. Alvarez. "I don't think the girls should be listening to Johnson's hypocritical, sexist opinions."

Mr. Alvarez smiled and this time it was entirely genuine — not to mention quite breathtaking.

"I agree," Mr. Alvarez replied, the smooth quality of his voice making Jake's heart miss a beat. Mr. Alvarez really was a devastatingly gorgeous man with his handsome features and that long, dark hair with sprinkles of gray at the temples.

Jake couldn't quite tear his gaze away, even if he knew he should have. Staring at his daughter's best friend's father was probably one of those things that made him a very uncool dad.

A tug on Jake's shirt sleeve made him look down at Gabi, who was suddenly standing next to him. She was a tiny little thing — especially compared to Jake — but he knew that she had enough intensity in her to overpower just about anyone. Maybe she got it from her dad, even if he seemed much more careful with how he flaunted it.

Gabi crooked her finger and Jake obediently bent down so that she could reach high enough to whisper in his ear.

"My dad is single."

Jake blinked and wasn't quite sure what to reply — especially not when seeing the serious look on Gabi's face.

"Thanks?" He hadn't actually asked for the information, but he couldn't deny that he could think of several good uses for it.

Gabi rolled her eyes.

"Do something about it!" she ordered, and seemed just about ready to push Jake towards her dad. Maybe she would have, if Jazz hadn't grabbed her hand and pulled her aside. Jazz hissed something at Gabi before throwing a glance in Jake's direction — one that was alarmingly calculating.

Jake wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

Well, that might not be _entirely_ true.

He turned and met Mr. Alvarez's gaze, feeling an expectant squeeze in his gut. Mr. Alvarez might not have heard what his daughter said, but his smile was inviting.

Jake could definitely work with that.

"Considering that our daughters are now partners in crime, I think it's only reasonable that you and I get to know each other," Jake said. "Just in case we ever need to bail them out, I mean."

Mr. Alvarez raised an eyebrow, looking both amused and encouraging — as if he definitely wanted Jake to finish that train of thought.

"So how about some coffee?" Jake suggested with a casual shrug, slowly gravitating closer to Mr. Alvarez — which was everything but casual. And possibly something Jake shouldn't be doing with his daughter standing a couple of feet away.

Mr. Alvarez didn't seem to mind, though, judging by his smile.

"Sounds good," Mr. Alvarez replied, his words holding enough promise to make Jake's heart perform another excited skip. The look in Mr. Alvarez's eyes was bordering on inappropriate — not that Jake minded.

He would very much like to keep staring at Mr. Alvarez.

Even Jake had to admit that the moment was somewhat ruined when Jazz and Gabi whooped and gave each other a proud high five, though.

But he couldn't begrudge them that, he supposed.

 


	2. Say It With Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by Anonymous:** _For the "I wish you would write" ask meme: How about Jensen/Cougar, one of them accidentally confesses to the other get-together? (I can never get enough of this pairing)_
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / None
> 
>  **Notes:** This clocks in at roughly 700 words and is probably one of the shortest things I've ever written. Imagine that. I really wanted it to be Cougar who did the accidental confession because he is, supposedly, the more controlled one. I mean, most would assume it would be Jensen who blurted it out somehow, so naturally it had to be Cougar. [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/123832373007/for-the-i-wish-you-would-write-ask-meme-how)

 

Sometimes Cougar forgot that it wasn't common knowledge that he loved Jensen. He might never have mentioned his feelings out loud, but he had been carrying them for quite some time — to the point where they became second nature. Loving Jensen was just a part of who Cougar was.

He knew better than to flaunt his affections, however. First because of DADT, but after Bolivia it became a matter of not adding to their growing list of problems. They didn't have time for those kinds of complications.

And that was fine. Cougar didn't _have_ to tell Jensen. Being best friends meant that Jensen was noticeably partial to Cougar in any given situation, and Cougar didn't need more than that. Jensen was still _his_ — just not in a romantic sense.

But Cougar couldn't deny that, every now and then, he forgot that Jensen _didn't know_.

Cougar was far too careful to accidentally say or do anything incriminating, but reflexively, well — that was another matter entirely. Loving Jensen just came so easily to him that more often than not, he reacted on pure instinct.

Like the day Jensen needed a special kind of transmitter for their next op in their hunt for Max and Clay ordered Cougar to babysit. A wholly understandable precaution, considering that Jensen might get stuck for _hours_ playing with all the shiny toys in the electronics store otherwise.

The fact that it also happened to be Valentine's Day was pure coincidence.

Cougar didn't care much for Valentine's Day, mostly because couldn't celebrate it with the object of his affections. But he _had_ promised Jensen that they could buy chocolate once they were done at the electronics store.

That almost counted, didn't it?

Cougar was dividing his attention between Jensen's happy chatter and the shoppers passing them on the street. Not that Cougar was expecting an ambush, but it was a difficult habit to break. His gaze briefly landed on a perky-looking woman a couple of feet ahead, but since she was harmless Cougar's attention soon moved on.

Only to have it snap back to the woman when she suddenly sidestepped, putting her in Cougar's path. She was brandishing a de-thorned rose, wearing a shirt with the name of what Cougar assumed was a florist chain. He stopped mostly to avoid knocking her over.

Jensen seemed to stop mostly out of curiosity.

"Hi!" she greeted, smiling widely. "We're handing out free roses." She pushed the flower into Cougar's hands, heedless of his lack of enthusiasm. "Give it to the one you love and we guarantee a successful Valentine's Day!"

The sales pitch was horrible, but the rose itself was quite beautiful. The petals were a rich, deep red and Cougar couldn't help that instincts took over. Jensen was _right there_ , after all, so it seemed entirely reasonable to turn and hand over the flower to him.

Who else was Cougar supposed to give it to?

Cougar gave the woman a brief nod, then started walking again. After no more than three steps he could tell that Jensen wasn't following, and it was only when Cougar turned around that he even realized what he had done.

Because there was Jensen, cradling the rose in his hands and looking like his entire world was realigning. There was something incredibly fragile in the hunched line of Jensen's shoulders, and he didn't seem able to stop staring at the flower he was holding.

Cougar felt a clench of dread. There was no way to misinterpret what he had just done, and Cougar knew that it was too late to back out now.

Jensen looked up, his eyes wide and impossibly blue.

"Really?" he asked, so soft and breathless that Cougar barely heard him.

Cougar felt his heart jump. Was that hope in Jensen's voice?

Cougar decided that lying wasn't something he was prepared to do — not to Jensen, and not about something like this. Not telling was one thing, but to outright deny that he was in love would be cruel.

So Cougar nodded, ignoring how his heart was racing. " _Sí_."

Cougar held out his hand towards Jensen, almost surprised to see how steady it was. Both of their worlds were realigning, but Cougar suspected that it was for the better.

The soft, happy smile that spread on Jensen's lips was breathtaking. He slipped his hand into Cougar's and moved close enough that Cougar could feel the heat of him.

Jensen slowly rolled the stem of the rose between his fingertips.

"Okay," was all he said.

Then again, that was more than enough.

 


	3. Prank War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by Anonymous:** _Don't know if you're still doing the "i Wish you would write" meme but here's are thought: Jensen/Cougar, Pooch decides to prank Jensen in the morning, but he doesn't notice Cougar in the same bed (based of the vine but I couldn't find a way to put in the link!)_
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / None
> 
>  **Notes:** I had no idea what vine the prompter was referring to, so I decided to just wing it based on what little I did have. It turned out to be quite different from the vine, but I hope that's okay! I had fun writing it and hopefully you will have fun reading it  <3 [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/124169760557/dont-know-if-youre-still-doing-the-i-wish-you)

 

The Pooch knew that he shouldn't lower himself to Jensen's level. Jolene — bless her soul — was determined to make a good man out of him and being vengeful wasn't a very attractive trait. Neither was resorting to juvenile pranks.

But there were limits, for heaven's sake, and one was definitely reached when Jensen made sure that all fingers on Pooch's right hand — except the thumb — got superglued together. To be honest, even Pooch thought that was pretty funny at the beginning, since his hand was all the more effective when he slapped Jensen at the back of his head.

But it was a whole lot less funny when they got a mission the very next day.

Pooch tried to convince Clay that he was fine — the glue would probably wear off in a day or two. But Clay replied that Pooch could barely _grip_ a gun, let alone fire one.

And that was the story of how Roque was tasked with cutting Pooch's fingers apart, even if Pooch himself was highly against it. Jensen stood snickering in the doorway the entire time, hiding his face against Cougar's shoulder whenever Pooch started screaming that Roque was cutting into skin. Pooch would have been offended if he hadn't been so worried about the state of his hand.

To be fair, Roque did a masterful job. Pooch survived the ordeal with nothing more than a small nick on his index finger, and that was his own fault for twitching too much.

After that little adventure Jensen was forever forbidden to handle superglue unless he was under adult supervision. Pooch didn't even try to hide his smug grin when Clay informed Jensen of this, adding that if Jensen was going to behave like a preschooler, he would abide by the same rules as they did.

Jensen almost lost his scissor privileges by protesting the punishment.

So okay, Pooch knew that pranking Jensen back was both childish and could get him into loads of trouble, but there had to be _some_ kind of retribution for the superglue incident. The problem was that Jensen was a difficult man to prank. One could easily sneak up on him, sure, because Jensen wasn't all that attentive when not on missions, but where Jensen went, so did Cougar.

The Pooch knew what he was capable of, and getting the drop on Cougar was definitely not on the list.

Not to mention that Jensen often carried or handled expensive pieces of equipment — the majority belonging to the army — and if Pooch broke those Clay would have his hide. So his options for suitable pranks were diminishing rapidly, since setting something up in the house meant that an unsuspecting Roque or Clay might fall into the trap instead.

After mulling it over for a couple of days, Pooch decided that his best chance was to prank Jensen while he was sleeping. That tactic wasn't without its dangers, however. If Cougar found out that Pooch disrupted what little sleep Jensen managed to get, Pooch was no doubt going to regret it — Cougar would make sure of that.

So Pooch decided to make it a morning prank, when even Jensen should have gotten a couple of hours of sleep. Shaving cream and magic markers might not be the most elaborate of pranks, but Pooch liked the classics. Not to mention that he didn't want to cause Jensen any actual harm.

Pooch carefully opened Jensen's door, thanking his lucky star that the blinds were only half-closed, allowing the morning sunlight to trickle in. Pooch had rarely been inside Jensen's room — everyone but Cougar were too intimidated by all the weird gadgets, trinkets, and posters — and Pooch would no doubt trip if he was expected to navigate in the dark.

The bed stood in the furthest corner and Pooch had to grin when he saw the Transformers sheets he had given Jensen for Christmas last year. Giving presents to Jensen was always incredibly easy since you could pick almost anything for the local toy store — be it the boy or girl section — and Jensen would love it.

Jensen was lying on his side, facing the wall. That wasn't ideal for the shaving cream gag, but at least it gave Pooch access to Jensen's back, which was an undeniably broad canvas for the magic markers. Pooch sneaked across the room, already planning what to draw, but hesitated when he realized that something was off. He couldn't figure out what was bothering him, though, and eventually pushed the feeling aside, blaming his imagination.

It was only when Pooch got close enough to the bed to see _behind_ Jensen that he could pinpoint what was out of place.

Cougar's hat was on the bedside table.

And Cougar was in the bed with Jensen.

There were altogether too few clothes involved to give Pooch any doubts as to the nature of the sleepover, even if the sheets were keeping it somewhat decent.

Pooch's first thought was, _'this explains a lot.'_

His second was, _'I'm going to die.'_

Because he had clearly stumbled in on something he shouldn't have — and Cougar had noticed.

Jensen was still sleeping peacefully, judging by his calm, even breaths, but Cougar's dark eyes were fixed on Pooch. Cougar didn't even move, but he still managed to threaten Pooch with death and murder with nothing more than a look.

Cougar always had been the scariest of them all.

Pooch had no idea what to do. He had always known that Jensen and Cougar's relationship was one that couldn't be defined within the regular parameters of a friendship, and he wasn't surprised to see that it obviously went further than that. But he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know the exact definition, either.

As far as Pooch was concerned, Jensen and Cougar could bang whoever they wanted, but doing _each other_ was definitely a risk. Not only because of how it might affect the team's dynamic, but because of DADT and other stupid restrictions.

Pooch opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was trying to say, but he still felt that he had to do _something_. He stopped when Cougar raised a finger to his lips, urging Pooch to be silent. That was probably for Jensen's benefit, and Pooch nodded in understanding.

He raised in hands — still holding the shaving cream and magic markers — and started inching backwards. To be honest, Pooch wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. Pooch was happy for them, he really was, but he had never intended to walk in on something this private.

This was Jensen and Cougar's secret to keep, not Pooch's.

Cougar's eyes followed Pooch as he moved, neither of them saying a word. By the time Pooch could close the door behind him, his heart was racing and a shiver of discomfort travelled down his spine. Cougar was one scary man.

Pooch sent a grateful prayer to whoever was listening, genuinely surprised that he had gotten out of Jensen's room with all of his limbs intact. After a relieved exhale he quickly went to hide the evidence, putting the shaving cream back in the bathroom and stowing the magic markers away in his own room.

Pranking Jensen was definitely not Pooch's highest priority anymore.

Maybe he was naïve to hope that would be the end of it, but at the same time he wasn't surprised when he turned around three hours later and found himself face to face with Cougar. Pooch might or might not have let out a surprised shriek, simply because he hadn't seen or heard Cougar coming.

Cougar's expression remained patient and calm — as usual.

"Holy _shit_ , Cougs! Don't sneak up on people," Pooch complained, mostly to buy himself time. He knew all too well why Cougar had come to see him.

The eyebrow Cougar raised made it abundantly clear, if nothing else.

Pooch cleared his throat and managed to keep his voice somewhat level.

"I won't tell." Pooch wasn't sure what else to say. He didn't want details — and he suspected that Cougar didn't want to share them — and apologizing wouldn't do them much good.

Cougar held his gaze, the silence more threatening than any words could possibly have been. Pooch raised his hands on pure reflex.

"Hey, man, I'm serious. You two do whatever you want to do. It's not my business." Pooch made sure to convey his sincerity. "I won't tell, Cougs."

After a nerve-wracking couple of seconds Cougar accepted Pooch's reassurances. He didn't do more than nod, but it seemed friendly rather than threatening — perhaps even a little bit grateful.

Pooch watched as Cougar turned to leave, but he couldn't help calling out.

"Hey."

Cougar stopped and looked over his shoulder, his face partly hidden by the brim of his hat.

"Congratulations, to the both of you," Pooch said, not able to hold back a smile.

Cougar smiled back, then tipped his hat and kept walking.

 


	4. Top Secret Government Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by[Mnemmy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemmy):** _I wish you would write a fic where Jensen really was part of a top secret government experiment._
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / Mentions of iffy experiments
> 
>  **Notes:** This is technically pre-slash, but there's a lot of sweetness going on between Jensen and Cougar so I still think the drabble qualifies. This was pretty interesting to write and a part of me wouldn't have minded to expand on it and make it a bigger story, buuuuut there are other projects I should be focusing on. So this is, unfortunately, all you'll ever get. [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/125284185857/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-jensen-really)

 

Jensen did enough weird things on a daily basis that Cougar had stopped counting. He still reacted to them, of course — sometimes with fondness, or the occasional sigh, and, every now and then, the extremely tempting urge to give Jensen a reprimanding slap at the back of his head. Most of the time, Cougar was prepared for Jensen's outbursts and strange ideas and could handle them accordingly, but even he had limits.

Like when Jensen stopped a bullet with a simple hand gesture.

Cougar was _not_ equipped to deal with that.

It happened three months after Roque's death, when they were trying to intercept one of Max's armored transports and met heavier resistance than expected. Nothing they couldn't handle, but Clay and Aisha's carefully laid plans quickly evolved into a chaotic mess of flying bullets and harshly barked orders. They usually tried to be stealthier than this.

Cougar welcomed the familiar presence next to him, not even having to glance to the side to know exactly where Jensen was. Things like that came naturally by then. Just like Cougar reacted to Jensen's directions without second thought, trusting Jensen's judgment as much as his own.

Despite this, Cougar knew that sooner or later, at some point in the future, one of them would be too careless or too late to duck. He just hadn't expected it to be that day, when he caught a movement in the corner of his eye, just a fraction of a second too late.

"Cougar!" Jensen's shout was drowned out by the crack of a gun.

For a split second, Cougar had time to panic. Not because he was going to die, but because there were so many things he hadn't done yet. Avenge all those murdered children, clear the team's name, teach Beth Spanish, and finally gather up the courage to kiss Jensen.

Cougar was going to die without ever having known what Jensen's lips tasted like.

Only nothing happened. No bullet hit him.

Cougar's heart managed to catch up, giving a loud thump — hard enough to hurt. A second later, he realized why he was still standing.

A bullet, glowing red in the light of the setting sun, hung suspended no more than two feet away from his chest. Somehow, it had stopped in mid-air. Cougar didn't know what to think, let alone _do_.

For once he wasn't the first to react. Cougar's attention flickered to Jensen, who quickly lowered his outstretched hand before raising his gun to fire back. The man who had shot at Cougar slumped to the ground.

The bullet dropped the moment Jensen's hand did, landing on the asphalt with a faint ping.

Despite knowing how dangerous it was Cougar stood frozen, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But how could he possibly do that? Bullets didn't just _stop_ — the laws of physics wouldn't allow that.

The harmless piece of lead lying on the ground at his feet said otherwise.

"Cougar, you okay?"

The hand that landed on Cougar's shoulder made him flinch. He hastily took a step to the side, out of Jensen's reach. Their gazes locked. Cougar saw the flare of hurt in those bright blue eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an eerily blank expression. Jensen swallowed and stared down at his outstretched hand — he looked like he wished that it didn't belong to him.

Cougar didn't know what to say. He wanted to deny what had just happened, or at the very least find a rational explanation. But even if Cougar had been a skeptic, it would have been difficult to deny something he had seen with his own eyes.

Jensen had stopped that bullet.

Cougar had no idea how or what exactly he felt about that, but Jensen had stopped the bullet.

Without a word Jensen pulled back, lowering his hand and gaze. Clay barked something over the comms but Cougar barely heard it over the rapid beat of his own heart. He couldn't stop staring at Jensen, who gave Clay a distracted reply before moving to follow orders, without as much as a glance in Cougar's direction.

What had just happened?

 

* * *

 

Jensen was avoiding Cougar.

Actually, Jensen had neither spoken to nor touched Cougar since the incident with the bullet. Had it been anyone else that probably wouldn't have been cause for alarm, but since this was Jensen — the most tactile and talkative person Cougar knew — he was worried.

It had been over a week already.

Cougar still wasn't sure what to think about that whole thing with the bullet — partly because he didn't know what _it_ was — but being without Jensen was disorienting. Cougar was so used to Jensen's happy chatter filling the silence and his warmth just a couple of feet away that he lost his balance when he _didn't_ have them.

As a rule, Cougar was careful to respect other people's boundaries, but in this case he was certain that Jensen was only harming himself by staying away. Not to mention that Cougar was desperate for an explanation. Even after a week he hadn't been able to find one on his own.

It took longer than usual for Cougar to find Jensen, maybe because he hadn't expected him to be at the back of the van that stood parked outside their hotel. Jensen stiffened when the door opened and he seemed to shrink when Cougar climbed in without a word. The sound of the door sliding shut made Jensen flinch. Cougar's heart ached when he saw just how frightened Jensen was.

That wasn't right — Cougar never wanted Jensen to be afraid of him.

Jensen sat cross-legged on the dirty floor, behind the actual seats. His computer was in his lap and next to him was enough candy and snacks to last him a week. If it hadn't been for the fact that Jensen was camping out in the van to avoid Cougar, he would have looked rather adorable.

Cougar sat down as far away from Jensen as the cramped space would allow. He still wasn't surprised to find that Jensen was avoiding his gaze. After a couple of awkward seconds, Cougar let out a sigh.

"Will you explain?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice soft.

Jensen swallowed, his fingers tapping against the keys of his laptop, but it didn't look like he was writing anything. He twisted nervously before shrugging.

"What about it?" Jensen was trying to buy time. Cougar could wait — he was patient.

The silence that settled was no less awkward than the last — maybe even more so, in fact.

Cougar was impressed when Jensen managed to remain quiet for two whole minutes.

"I didn't mean to," Jensen blurted out, looking guilty of all things. "I try not to... well..." He made a vague gesture with his hand and Cougar was ashamed to admit that he stiffened in alarm. And that Jensen saw him do it.

Cougar wasn't sure if he had ever seen Jensen look so painfully heartbroken.

Jensen quickly snatched his hands back, fingers clenched into tight fists that he hid from Cougar's view — as if he had done something wrong. He looked tense and vulnerable.

"I'm sorry. I— I try not to. I know how terrifying it must seem. But, then again, I've always been a bit of a freak so yay for you having an actual reason to call me—"

"Jake," Cougar interrupted, moving closer without thinking. He touched Jensen's arm, grateful to see that he didn't flinch back. A gentle nudge under Jensen's chin made him look up. Cougar wasn't afraid. It made him uncomfortable that he had known Jensen for years and somehow not noticed this before, but he wasn't afraid. "Will you tell me?"

The brilliant blue of Jensen's eyes was the same as always. He didn't look any different, even if Cougar knew that something definitely was — Jensen was more than he seemed.

"I was telling the truth." Jensen's voice was surprisingly firm. A nod from Cougar made him continue. "At Goliath, I mean. I wasn't lying about the... um... thing."

Cougar's eyebrows rose. "The secret government experiment?"

Jensen nodded. Cougar had not expected that.

"Well, I mean, there wasn't as much anal stuff as I might have implied, but I guess that depends on how you—"

"Jensen."

"Right. Yeah." Jensen cleared his throat, looking down at Cougar's hand, which was still resting against Jensen's arm. "I had just finished basic when they approached me. I'm still not sure why — maybe they were screening new recruits or something — but some men in fancy suits asked me to be a part of this secret program..."

Cougar felt a flare of protectiveness, even if it was clearly several years too late. He moved until he was sitting comfortably next to Jensen, their knees touching. That simple point of contact seemed to give Jensen enough courage to continue.

"I agreed, which translates to volunteered. But I don't remember a whole lot of the actual experiments, to be honest. For which I'm grateful, since what I _do_ remember is pretty spooky." He shrugged again — it only made him look frailer. "I came out... different. I can move things with my mind. Not too big things and never for any length of time, but I can move them. Or stop them."

The silence was deafening. There were several things Cougar could say, but he decided to go with the one he suspected that they both needed.

"Show me?" he asked. He wasn't afraid — Jensen needed to understand that.

Jensen's eyes were wide when he looked at Cougar, but he seemed relieved. He cleared his throat.

"I... can't quite control it all the time. It works best when I do it instinctively — like you would move an arm or any other part of you. If I focus too much, nothing happens." While he was talking Jensen raised his right hand, palm up, and with it came one of the lollipops lying scattered on the floor of the van. The piece of candy floated leisurely for a couple of seconds, before falling back down with a clack.

Cougar's best friend and secret love was a telekinetic. Weirder things had happened, right?

Actually, no. Probably not.

Surprisingly enough, however, Cougar didn't feel a need to freak out. He wasn't the kind who did, and this was still Jensen. Whatever weird powers Jensen was in possession of, they had always been there. Cougar hadn't met Jensen until they ended up on the same team, and just because Cougar now knew about them didn't mean that Jensen was different.

"They think it was a failure," Jensen said, filling the silence between them. "The experiment, I mean. I made them think that. I pretended that it didn't work because I didn't want to be a part of it anymore, but they probably wouldn't have let me go if it was a success." Jensen leaned his head back, staring up at the roof of the van. "I was allowed to return to the army once they had decided that the experiment had failed."

Cougar let those words sink in. Once they had, he reached out and gently touched Jensen's hand.

"You never use it?"

Jensen shook his head. He was back to looking down at his lap, his fingers drumming restlessly against his laptop.

"I don't want any of you to have a reason to... be afraid of me. Or flinch away or even just doubt me because I..."

Jensen trailed off when Cougar placed a hand at the back of his neck. The short hairs at his nape were soft against Cougar's thumb, and he had to fight and urge to run his fingers through the blond mess. Jensen shivered under his touch.

"I'm not afraid, Jake."

A beat of silence, then Jensen drew in a deep breath.

"Really?" He sounded so uncertain, yet hopeful.

" _Sí_ ," Cougar replied, trying not to lean closer. Or, better yet — pull Jensen in for a kiss. Now was clearly not the time.

Jensen looked up, his eyes brilliantly blue even in the dim light inside the van.

"I'm sorry I never told you before. I just didn't know how."

Cougar smiled and allowed himself to ruffle Jensen's hair. He didn't say anything, but he knew that he didn't have to — Jensen would understand. He always did.

Jensen relaxed before bumping their shoulders together. The playfulness was returning, to Cougar's great relief. A week of Jensen being tense and skittish had been nerve-wracking for both of them.

"Thanks, Cougs," Jensen said, voice soft enough to send a delighted shiver down Cougar's spine.

" _De nada_." Cougar replied, not objecting when Jensen inched closer, until they were leaning against each other. Cougar had missed this — the closeness and warmth.

It might take a while before Cougar managed to grasp the whole telekinetic thing, but he didn't doubt that he would. This was Jensen, after all, and there were few things Cougar wouldn't do for Jensen.

Simple as that.

 


	5. The Morgue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by[Mnemmy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemmy):** _I wish you would write a fic where The Losers run a morgue and/or funeral home._
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** T / Injuries, Minor mentions of blood and/or gore
> 
>  **Notes:** I admit that I had no idea how to make this work as a plot so I settled for "they end up at a morgue and Jensen _pretends_ that he works there." It was the best I could do under the circumstances. Also, this can be read separately as something that happens after the movie, _or_ a missing scene between chapters two and three in _[Don't Tell Cougar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1216732/chapters/2489908)_ , if you fancy that. Goofy JJ is <3  
> [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/128790732707/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-the-losers-run)

 

"Clay, why are we at a morgue?" Pooch asked warily.

Jensen didn't blame him for sounding unnerved. Pooch was the one injured, propped up between Jensen and Cougar as they slipped in behind Clay. Pooch still couldn't walk all that well, what with being shot once in each leg. The room was empty, meaning that Aisha must have been successful in luring away whoever was on shift at the time.

Jensen suspected that she had accomplished this with the liberal use of blunt force trauma.

"Well," Jensen cut it, just as Clay turned to reply to Pooch's question, "we figured that if your injuries turn fatal, this would save on travel time."

Pooch gave him a dirty look.

"You're not helping," Clay said evenly.

"What?" Jensen defended, pleased to notice that Cougar was trying not to smile. "It's true! If you want to spare yourself a trip to the morgue, you should die at the morgue."

Clay rolled his eyes before looking at Pooch. "They have supplies to at least temporarily fix you up, until we can find a proper doctor."

Clay was aiming to reassure, but he would probably have been more convincing if they hadn't been standing in a cold, sterile room lit up with greenish florescent lights. It looked creepy — and Jensen wasn't even the one bleeding.

At least there were no dead bodies on display, but that was a minor comfort, all things considered.

"Coroners have medical training," Jensen supplied helpfully. "I'm sure they'd be delighted to try their hands on a live specimen for once. It could be a learning experience."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Pooch accused, but allowed Jensen and Cougar to lead him towards one of the metal slabs. He seemed to draw the line at lying down on it, however. "I am _not_ dead yet, Jensen!" he barked, swaying closer to Cougar in an attempt to get away from Jensen's gentle nudges.

" _Yet_ ," Jensen agreed with a solemn nod.

"Clay!" Pooch exclaimed, in a pitch way too high for a grown man. He looked quite comical, clinging to Cougar for support — who was still trying his best not to smile.

Clay let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Jensen, stop implying that Pooch is dying." Clay sounded defeated, though, as if he knew that reprimands were pointless. Previous experiences must have taught him that, Jensen assumed. Clay caught his gaze. "Secure the perimeter instead."

"Yes, sir," Jensen replied on reflex. He knew that Clay was just giving him orders to keep him occupied. Aisha would surely have taken care of any threats already, but Jensen didn't mind the distraction. He felt wired and unfocused, so he'd rather embrace a task — any task, really — than stand around twiddling his thumbs.

Truth was, he was running on pure willpower — they all were.

The adrenaline had faded long ago and all that was left was an empty feeling of loss and exhaustion. If Pooch hadn't been injured Jensen was pretty sure that they would have found the nearest place to crash and done so without hesitation. They couldn't follow Max and Roque was already lost, so besides from getting Pooch fixed up, they didn't have much of a mission.

There was a lot to process, though — some of which Jensen didn't even want to acknowledge — but it would have to wait until Pooch was taken care of.

Jensen strolled into the adjoining office, his fingers itching when he saw the computer on the desk. He longed for the security of humming hard drives and strings of code. If he had that, maybe he would be able to ignore the lingering aftertaste of panic.

He had been seconds away from seeing Cougar's brain splattered on the asphalt.

Jensen closed his eyes and swallowed down the lump of nausea.

_Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it._

Cougar was _fine_. Jensen could hear him speak in the next room — not the exact words, few as they were, but he would recognize that cadence anywhere. Cougar was alive, and Jensen should focus on his mission.

Like expected, he didn't find anything out of order. Aisha had probably tossed the coroner into a supply closet or something, because there was no sign of either of them in the small office space. Jensen _did_ find a locker with pretty, white lab coats, though, grinning widely when he located one that fit.

Well, fit _reasonably_ well — it was somewhat tight over the shoulders, but Jensen was used to that.

He was beaming when he returned to the other room. Pooch was sitting on one of the metal slabs while Cougar inspected the damage done to Pooch's legs. Clay was guarding the door, his expression closed-off and stern. Jensen figured he was thinking about Roque.

Cougar let out a fond snort when he saw Jensen, but it was quieter than usual. He looked as tired as the rest of them, and hadn't spoken much since they left the port.

Well, even _less_ than normal.

"Aw _hell_ no, you are _not_ operating on anyone, J," Pooch declared, before Jensen had even opened his mouth.

Jensen pouted. "But I have the coat and everything!"

"This isn't a video game, Jensen — the coat doesn't grant you instant powers of healing," Pooch replied dryly.

"But definitely five plus in charisma," Jensen countered with a wink. That earned him an eye roll from both Pooch and Cougar.

Pooch was about to give a no doubt scathing reply, but paused when the morgue's phone started ringing. Clay looked up from where he stood brooding by the door, instantly on guard. Whoever called probably expected someone to answer, but Aisha had yet to return with the poor coroner she had kidnapped. Not answering might alert the rest of the hospital of the sneaky takeover of their facilities, which was a big no-no.

So, Jensen did the only reasonable thing in such a situation and reached for receiver.

"Welcome to the city morgue," he said cheerfully. "You stab 'em, we bag 'em."

The silence was deafening, both inside the room and on the other end of the line.

"Uh... right." The woman on the phone sounded baffled. "Who is this?"

"Oh, I'm one of the new people," Jensen blurted out. "The live ones, that is. I work with dead people, but don't plan on joining them any time soon."

Clay made a suffering face that Jensen chose to ignore.

"Oookay." The woman cleared her throat, obviously trying to remain professional despite the weird conversation they were having. "We have possible relatives to the John Doe who came in last night. Can we bring them over for an identification in, say, three hours?"

"Sure thing!" Jensen replied. He figured they would be long gone by then. He rifled through the papers strewn over the small table next to the phone. There was something that looked vaguely like a calendar, with a chewed-on pen lying next to it. "I'll make a note of it," he continued, and did just that.

"Right. Thanks." The woman — possibly a detective considering her errand — was no doubt frowning in confusion. She also hung up before Jensen got the time to say goodbye, which was just rude.

When he turned back to face the rest of his team, they were staring at him with mixed expressions of exasperation and disbelief — so a regular day at work, in other words.

"Jensen—" Clay began.

"Improvisation!" Jensen exclaimed with a brilliant smile. "I'm _good_ , right?"

Cougar shook his head, but it was from fondness rather than disagreement. Jensen tried not to preen. He also tried not to gravitate closer to Cougar, wanting to make sure that he was still alive and whole. That would be too obvious, and Jensen knew he still had to keep his emotions under tight wraps. Just because he was feeling a little clingy didn't mean that he could go ahead and reveal his long-standing crush on his best friend.

Jensen was saved from a scolding by Aisha's return, whereupon she and Clay immediately launched into a heated discussion about how they were going to proceed. Jensen was more worried about how Aisha had chosen to deal with the morgue staff, but knew better than to get between Clay and Aisha when they were arguing.

He wasn't _that_ stupid, thank you very much.

Cougar worked in silence — as was his habit — while Pooch remained admirably still despite the pain he had to be in. Jensen, on his part, drifted around the room, doing an excellent job of not opening any of the storage compartments to peek at the dead bodies. He'd had enough of corpses in his life, to be honest, but curiosity was a personality flaw of his.

There was another phone call five minutes later, which Jensen answered with a chipper, "Welcome to the city morgue — you choke 'em, we smoke 'em."

Jensen listened to the message and dutifully made another note in the calendar before hanging up.

" _Seriously_?" Aisha had her arms crossed over her chest, looking dubious.

"Yeah, I know." Jensen grimaced. "That was a bad one. Morgues don't do the cremations."

Aisha stared for a second, then turned to Clay — who was back to pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Since when does he work here?" Aisha asked, but she sounded amused underneath the sharpness. Or maybe that was just Jensen's imagination.

"Jensen, for heaven's sake, _stop manning the phone_ ," Clay said, with a tone that suggested that he wanted to be anywhere but there. Jensen thought that was unfair — he was only trying to make sure that no one caught on to them having hijacked the local morgue.

Clay ignored Jensen's pout. "Cougs?" he asked instead.

"Soon done," was the curt reply. Cougar flicked a quick glance towards Clay. "He needs a doctor."

Clay sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I know that," he answered, voice weary. "But finding one who knows to keep their mouth shut isn't easy."

"I have contacts," Aisha cut in. Her gaze travelled over the men in the room, her expression calculating — as if she wasn't sure whether to bother saving their asses again. "And a safe house."

Pooch perked up at that, if only marginally. The blood loss was getting to him, no doubt, and Jensen was willing to go with Aisha's plan just to give Pooch a chance to lie down and rest.

Clay seemed to be thinking along the same lines, relief flickering past on his face. At this point, they were more or less helpless without Aisha's assistance. She was the one with money and influence, while they were presumed dead. So Jensen could understand if Clay was grateful that she could solve their problems — without him having to do much at all.

There were so tired.

"Find a doctor," Clay told her, before walking over to help Pooch get ready to leave. Cougar hadn't had the time or supplies to do much more than clean and properly bandage the gunshot wounds, but it would have to do.

Jensen helped Cougar clean the tools he had used, while Aisha left to make her calls and Clay steered Pooch towards the exit. The fewer traces they left, the better. Jensen's sloppily scrawled notes in the calendar wouldn't be much to go on, but he made sure to wipe down the pen and phone, just in case, while Cougar mopped up the blood.

Cleaning didn't take long at all, thankfully enough.

Jensen jumped when he suddenly felt a hand on his arm. Cougar was standing next to him, gaze imploring.

"You okay?"

Jensen took a moment to think on that; he knew he couldn't reply with the whole truth. There was no mistaking Cougar's honest concern, but both of them had something guarded in their eyes — thoughts they weren't willing to share.

Jensen more so than Cougar, he supposed, what with his urge to reach out, twist his fingers into Cougar's hair, and pull him in for a kiss.

Now was clearly not the time — there might never be a time for that.

"I'll be fine," Jensen replied. That might not have been the answer Cougar wanted — since it implied that something was indeed wrong — but it would just have to do, at least for now.

Cougar gave Jensen's arm a squeeze, his grip warm and comforting.

"You think Clay will let me keep the coat?" Jensen asked, mostly to change the subject. The fact that it made Cougar smile, well, that was just a bonus.

Cougar reached out to straighten the lab coat, fingers sliding along Jensen's shoulders, then down to flatten the lapels. His hand lingered a couple of seconds longer than necessary, resting against Jensen's rapidly beating heart.

" _Sí_." Cougar's smile was affectionate. "You look good."

Jensen swallowed and managed a smile. He couldn't for the life of him remember how to talk — let alone breathe.

"Come on," Cougar urged, fingertips brushing against Jensen's wrist — as if he had planned to grab it and pull him along, but eventually decided against it.

The touch was still enough to send a sizzle of excitement through Jensen.

So he followed, leaving the empty morgue without a backward glance, focusing on Cougar and the happy flutter in his own chest.

It was only when they were waiting for Pooch to get stitched up that Jensen dared to ask Aisha what had happened to the coroner. She gave him a crooked smile, but reassured him that the man had suffered nothing more serious than a bump on the head. Jensen was very relieved to hear that.

And if Jensen kept the lab coat, tucked in next to the bundle of letters and other important things he stored in his duffle, well — that was his business.

 


	6. Nightmares Really Do Come True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt by Anonymous:** _"Imagine Person A has a nightmare about an event that at that point will happen to A, B, or them as a couple in canon. Person B comforts them, telling them things like “Something like this will never happen”. Bonus: Flash forward to the event taking place." fic with Cougar/Jensen. Very angsty. Thanks ; > _  
> (Original prompt can be found [HERE](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/129427647702/imagine-person-a-has-a-nightmare-about-an-event))
> 
>  **Rating/Warnings:** T / PTSD, Grief
> 
>  **Notes:** This was written and posted in three parts on my Tumblr, but I figured it was better to post them together here. I wrote the first part just like the prompter asked — very angsty and, naturally, with an unhappy ending. This didn't sit well with a lot of my readers, however, and they asked me to fix the hurt and give it a happy ending. So I did! Also, you should all be lucky that I went with the movie — you all know what event I would have chosen, had I written this for the comic 'verse...  
> [Original posts can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/130346636194/imagine-person-a-has-a-nightmare-about-an-event)

 

**PART I**

Cougar woke before Jensen did. Part of that was Cougar's habit of always being aware of his surroundings, but most of all because the sound of Jensen in distress would always have him snap to attention.

A second was all Cougar needed to take stock of the situation. The room was dark and silent, no one there but them — not an outside threat, in other words. Jensen was breathing fast, and even though they weren't touching Cougar could see how tense he was.

Jensen was having a nightmare.

Cougar knew better than to reach out for him, the tight line of Jensen's shoulders signaling that he was likely to lash out if startled. Nightmares weren't uncommon for either of them, and ever since they started sharing a bed several months ago they had suffered through quite a few together.

With careful movements Cougar turned onto his side, until they were facing each other.

"Jake." His voice sounded far too loud in the quiet room.

Jensen's eyes snapped open with a start and a sharp breath. A couple of seconds of disorientation followed, and Cougar waited for Jensen to gain his bearings.

"Oh." Jensen sounded small and lost. Pure instinct had Cougar reach across the space between them, his fingers brushing gently against Jensen's hand. Without hesitation, Jensen laced their fingers together. He wasn't wearing his glasses and Cougar knew that Jensen would need something solid to hold on to when sight wasn't available.

"You okay?" Cougar asked softly.

Jensen blinked a couple of times, the tension leeching out of him, slowly but surely.

"I... think so? I was just..."

"Nightmare?" Cougar finished, when Jensen didn't seem inclined to.

Jensen nodded, his gaze not quite meeting Cougar's, but that could be Jensen's poor eyesight rather than shame or hesitation. Jensen didn't see all that well in the dark — not compared to Cougar.

The silence stretched on between them, Jensen's breaths calming. Cougar waited, knowing that if Jensen wanted to talk about the dream he would be the one to take the first step. That was their deal and Cougar had no intention of pushing for answers.

"It wasn't the usual ones..."

The mere fact that there were 'usual' ones said a thing or two about their general well-being. Not that one could expect anything else from people in their profession — they saw a whole lot that wasn't easily forgotten.

They still weren't touching aside from their hands, which was quite a feat considering that their bed wasn't all that big. Sometimes they slept pressed up against each other, seeking each other's warmth, but other times they seemed to need every inch of space they could put between them. Luckily enough, neither of them took offense whenever the latter happened.

In the distance, Cougar could hear the nighttime sounds of their house — the pipes, the tick of Jensen's Death Star clock, and Roque's snoring two rooms over. Even in the dark, that was comforting and familiar.

"I dreamt that we broke up."

Cougar blinked. "What?"

"We... broke up." Jensen was frowning, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "Or I guess we did. You weren't talking to me." Jensen shuffled closer, probably without noticing it himself. "I don't know what I did but you were avoiding me. You refused to talk to me, even when I tried to fix things, and I just got more and more desperate because—"

"Jake," Cougar interrupted softly, squeezing Jensen's hand to make him pause and take a breath. For the first time in what had to be years, that didn't seem to work.

"You don't understand, Cougs — you stopped _talking to me_."

To anyone else that would have sounded like a strange thing to get stuck on, but Cougar knew exactly what Jensen meant. Cougar didn't speak much — not verbally, anyway — but Jensen had a way of understanding him that went beyond mere words. If they lost that, Cougar wasn't sure what would become of them.

"I just... panicked. I didn't know what to do," Jensen continued, gripping Cougar's hand tighter. "You shut me out and I couldn't fix it. And when I asked what was wrong, you just looked at me, without saying a word. And I just couldn't—"

"Sssh, Jake." Cougar pulled on Jensen's hand, making him scoot closer. "That will never happen."

Cougar couldn't even imagine it. What kind of situation would they be in, for him to ignore Jensen? Sure, Jensen was a bit trying at times, but Cougar would never shut him out — he needed Jensen just as much as Jensen needed him.

"It was scary..." Jensen mumbled, sounding like a frightened child. Cougar didn't even try to deny the protective instincts that reared their head at that.

He pulled Jensen even closer, until Cougar could feel Jensen's bare skin against his own. Cougar would never tire of sharing his space with Jensen, to feel the beat of his heart against his fingertips and listen to the sound of his breaths.

"I know," Cougar replied. The thought _was_ scary — what was he supposed to do without Jensen? "But it won't happen."

Jensen relaxed in Cougar's embrace, his face burying against Cougar's neck.

"You promise?"

Cougar's smile was soft and fond. He kissed the top of Jensen's head.

"I promise."

 

* * *

 

Cougar stiffened when he heard a knock on the door. He knew who would be on the other side and he was in no shape to deal with that right now. Still, at the sound of the second knock he swallowed down his reluctance and went to open the door.

Jensen seemed shorter, hunched in on himself and gaze flickering nervously.

"Um... hi." Even his voice sounded less confident than usual, as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to speak in Cougar's presence. Cougar felt a sting of guilt at that, but didn't know if there was anything he could do to fix it.

He looked at Jensen, not inviting him in but not sending him away, either. Jensen's hotel room was just across the hall, but most of the time it felt like he might as well have been on a different continent. Ever since the helicopter went down, Cougar had a hard time looking Jensen in the eyes. Not because of anything Jensen had done, but because Cougar couldn't handle the guilt. He couldn't stand seeing the fear and grief in Jensen's eyes.

Those children were dead because of them, and Jensen might never see his sister and niece again. They had all lost so much. How was Jensen expected to forgive Cougar for that, if he couldn't forgive himself? Of course Cougar knew that it wasn't solely his fault, but he couldn't help feeling that he should have done more.

Cougar had even more blood on his hands now, after what had happened to those children. He would never be able to wash it off, and it felt wrong to want to touch Jensen with bloodstained hands.

So Cougar made sure to keep a distance between them.

The others had looked surprised when Cougar had requested a room of his own — he and Jensen had been sharing for as long as everyone bothered to remember. The look on Jensen's face had been particularly heartbreaking, but Cougar had ignored it.

He needed space between them — more than he'd get if they were sharing a bed. He didn't even care if sleeping without Jensen was near impossible by then, he just couldn't allow himself to feel love and happiness after what they'd done.

He didn't deserve it.

Not that Jensen deserved to be pushed away, but Cougar didn't know what else to do. His throat seized from guilt whenever he saw Jensen smile, because he knew that Jess and Beth might never get to experience it again. It hurt when Jensen tried to be supportive and help Cougar mourn, because the parents of those dead children might be alone in their grief.

Why should Cougar be allowed to have the warmth and security Jensen offered when Jess and Beth didn't, and when so many lives had been lost?

Jensen tried to be there for him even if Cougar had already shut one door in his face by refusing to share a room. Cougar was known for being stubborn to a fault but when it concerned people he cared about, so was Jensen. He tried to make Cougar relax by filling the silence with his usual chatter, but it didn't take long before that started grating on Cougar's nerves. He was too wrapped up in his guilt to allow himself to relax.

He started avoiding Jensen instead.

They were stuck in Bolivia, finding work where they could in order to get by, and stayed at one seedy hotel after the other. A fit punishment in Cougar's opinion, even if he hated seeing the forlorn look on Jensen's face. This was their life now, simple as that.

Jensen cleared his throat where he stood in Cougar's doorway, fiddling nervously with the hem of his t-shirt. Every now and then, over the past couple of weeks, Jensen had made attempts to reach out to Cougar, offering company or conversation. Sometimes, Jensen seemed to think everything was just like before — but it wasn't to Cougar.

Things would never be the same again.

"I was wondering if..." Jensen trailed off when he looked up and caught Cougar's gaze. Whatever frail hope he must have harbored flickered and died. Jensen swallowed, his shoulders rising. "Cougs... please, talk to me."

Cougar had nothing to say. How could he possibly explain everything that was running through his head? He didn't even know how to describe the guilt he felt, knowing that those children were gone forever.

"I mean, you don't have to talk about... _that_ , but at least say _something_ ," Jensen pleaded, reaching out a hand. He seemed to think better of it, however, when he saw Cougar's expression, quickly snatching his hand back. Cougar could see the hurt on Jensen's face — the tension in his jaw and the shine in his eyes, as if he was holding back tears.

Cougar forced himself not to react. It was his fault that Jensen felt like this — Cougar was the one hurting him — and, not for the first time, he started wondering if Jensen might be better off without him. He would certainly be happier.

"Please, Cougar, can you at least tell me what's wrong?" Jensen was beginning to sound desperate. "Was it something I did? How can I fix it?"

This wasn't Jensen's fault or something he could fix, but Cougar's didn't know how to tell him that. He didn't have the words to explain what he was going through, no matter how much he might crave forgiveness, and he definitely didn't want to drag Jensen down with him.

At this point in time, Jensen _was_ better off without him.

So Cougar didn't say anything. He just stood there, looking at Jensen while trying not to show how much he wanted to lean closer. He missed Jensen's warmth. Sleeping without him had been horrible — Cougar had grown used to hearing another person breathe next to him. Jensen grounded him in a way nothing else could, but Cougar couldn't allow himself to have that now. Cougar didn't deserve it.

"Cougs, _please_ ," Jensen whispered.

That was more than Cougar could bear. He started closing the door, wanting to shut everything out — the dead children, his own grief, the heartbreaking look on Jensen's face. He didn't want any of it.

"You promised." Jensen's voice broke, his breath hitching.

Cougar didn't look up — he couldn't. He knew that Jensen was crying and he was too much of a coward to face what he had done. Cougar _had_ promised that they would never reach a point where he would turn Jensen away, but he had to. He didn't know what else to do.

Jensen was better off without him.

The sound of the door closing was loud in his quiet hotel room, but he still heard Jensen's choked sob. The lack of retreating footsteps told Cougar that Jensen was still standing there, staring at the door Cougar had shut in his face.

That only made it worse.

Cougar could barely breathe around the lump in his throat and he had to place a hand against his mouth to hold back the pained noise he wanted to let out. He leaned his back against the door, staring up at the cracked ceiling while blinking away tears. He didn't have the right to cry. This was his fault.

Slowly, he sank lower, until he was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the flaking door. The pain was making his chest tight, forcing him to breathe in uneven bursts. Cougar dug his fingers into his hair, clenching hard enough to hurt.

Jensen was better off without him, no matter what Cougar had promised.

This was Cougar's fault.

 

* * *

 

Jensen didn't try to talk to him again.

 

 

 

**PART II**

"Cougar, can I talk to you for a second?" Jess stood in the doorway to the kitchen, gesturing for Cougar to join her.

Cougar wasn't sure why she was still awake — the others had gone to bed already, leaving Cougar to read in blessed silence on the couch. Jess didn't look angry, but Cougar still stiffened in alarm. She had to have noticed that Cougar was avoiding her.

Just like he was avoiding Jensen.

The guilt Cougar felt after Bolivia had settled somewhat when they were able to stop Max's schemes in L.A and Jensen could be reunited with his sister and niece. Everything wasn't lost, even if things were still far from fine. Seeing Jensen hug Beth had unraveled one of the tight knots in Cougar's chest, even if he had felt like an intruder, watching Jensen's happiness.

Cougar wasn't a part of Jensen's family anymore — he had forsaken that right when he pushed Jensen away, hurting him immensely in the process. Considering what he had done, Cougar still wasn't sure why he was even allowed in Jess' house. Jensen was the one who had insisted, however, even if his enthusiasm was clearly faked, barely hiding the emptiness underneath.

To Jensen's credit, he didn't let his private affairs affect his work. He was still reliable in the field, cracked jokes like usual, and went out of his way to annoy them with his antics. Cougar was one of the few who saw how hollow it was. How Jensen was just going through the motions rather than enjoying himself.

The spark was gone, and Cougar knew he was the one who had taken it away.

Jensen still talked to him — he was better than Cougar at pretending everything was fine between them — but his words were just as hollow as everything else he did. Not once did he confront Cougar about their relationship. He never asked why it had ended, or even mentioned it, and sometimes Cougar wondered if them being lovers had even happened in the first place. Jensen was so good at _not_ talking about their breakup that Cougar felt his chest constrict. It was as if Jensen had erased that part of their relationship from his memory and tried to cover up the gaping hole with fake smiles and empty small talk.

So Cougar was understandably wary of Jensen's sister since she, if anyone, would be able to see the damage Cougar had done. She knew Jensen in a way Cougar could never compete with.

Cougar closed his book and got up from the couch. Maintaining his outward façade of calm was getting more troublesome by the day. Sleeping was difficult without Jensen, and whenever Cougar saw the blankness in those bright blue eyes he was reminded of what he had done. Jensen had been the most vibrant person Cougar had ever met — full of life and enthusiasm — but all of that was gone now.

Because of Cougar.

He joined Jess in the kitchen, not really sure what to expect. A part of him — the masochistic, self-hating one — hoped she would yell at him. He _deserved_ to be yelled at, for hurting someone as pure and innocent as Jensen. As devious as he could be, there wasn't a bad bone in Jensen's body. He only ever wanted what was best for those he loved, and Cougar had completely destroyed him.

No matter how much Cougar wanted to fix things, he wasn't sure if he could.

Cougar turned to face Jess, bracing himself for what was to come. He wasn't sure if he was just distracted or if she was actually on par with him when it came to speed, but he was completely blindsided by the punch she threw at him. Fact was, he probably wouldn't have been able to dodge it even if he tried.

Jess held nothing back.

Cougar stumbled ungracefully from the blow, bumping into one of the kitchen counters and automatically grabbing it for support. A part of him was screaming to fight back, but the rest was too surprised to do anything but stare at her.

In all the time Cougar had known Jensen — and Jess, by extension — he had never seen her get violent. She threatened her brother with disciplinary actions on a regular basis, sure, but never violence. Cougar suspected that was founded in what little he had been able to piece together about the Jensen sibling's childhood, so to see her seething with rage, fists tightly clenched and teeth bared in a snarl, didn't just feel out of place — it terrified him.

"I have never, ever wanted to kill a man as much as I do now," she said, voice trembling with barely curbed anger. Cougar still noticed the bright shine of tears in her eyes. He knew she had to feel as desperately lost as he did whenever he saw what Jensen had become. "If I could get away with it, I wouldn't even hesitate. There's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for him."

Cougar knew Jess wasn't trying to intimidate him — she hadn't even given him the shovel talk when he and Jensen got together. Though she _had_ pointed out the importance of never betraying Jensen's trust, which had been ten times worse — especially now, when Cougar had obviously ignored her and gone ahead and hurt Jensen anyway.

Jess' anger was of a heartbreaking, visceral kind — one that made morals and laws pale in face of the urge for retribution. Cougar had never seen Jess lose her composure, but it didn't surprise him that it was Jensen's pain that eventually broke her.

"I want to hurt you _so badly_." She was clearly struggling against her rage, holding back through sheer force of will. Cougar admired her restraint — in her place he knew he wouldn't have been able to. The anger she felt, the animalistic need to _punish_ those responsible for hurting her loved ones — Cougar would have succumbed to it. That kind of anger was a living, breathing entity, and so overwhelming that it became impossible to think.

"I'd let you." The words slipped out without Cougar's consent. They were too raw and desperate, like a breath he had been holding for months and was finally able to let out.

"I know." Her face crumpled, the anger turning into grief. Cougar's chest ached when the first of her tears spilled over. Jess was shaking, her voice hitching. "And that makes it worse."

She placed a hand over her mouth but Cougar still heard her sob. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to maintain the distance between them. Seeing a Jensen cry — not matter which one — hurt more than he could bear, but he knew that she might not want him to comfort her. He was the reason she was crying.

"Just... _why_ , Cougar?" Her voice was strained, trembling from the tears she was struggling to hold back. " _Why_? I'm not an idiot — I can see you still love him. He won't tell me what happened, but I know you must have pushed him away." She swallowed and wiped her cheeks. "Jake can't hide it, not from me. I've spent _years_ watching him try to please everyone and I know what it looks like when he's been rejected."

Cougar didn't have an answer — at least not a good one.

"Why, Cougar? What did he do?" Jess took a step closer, but she sounded imploring rather than hostile.

"Nothing." Cougar couldn't let her believe this was because of something Jensen did. "It's my fault."

Jess ran a hand through her hair, slowly gathering her composure.

"Well, _he_ thinks it's his fault," she said. There was still a tremble to her voice but she managed to hide it admirably well. "And I'm guessing you never told him that?"

Cougar shook his head, shame curling in his gut when he saw the look on Jess' face.

"You _know_ him, Cougar. Of course he'll blame himself!" She took a step closer, and while her eyes were red-rimmed they looked as fierce as ever. "He'll think you grew tired of him, or that he talks too much, or that you _hate him_ —"

"I don't hate him," Cougar interrupted, feeling a stir of indignation.

Jess moved into his personal space, jabbing his chest. "But did you tell _him_ that?" she spat. "No, you didn't. I fucking _warned_ you, Cougar! I told you how easy it would be for you to hurt him, and you still went ahead and did just that."

Cougar gritted his teeth. "I didn't plan to." He knew he didn't have the right to get angry — he should feel lucky that Jess wasn't trying to punch him again — but none of the hurt he had caused Jensen was intentional.

"So why did you do it? If it wasn't his fault, then why?" she challenged, eyes blazing. Cougar had a hard time maintaining eye contact.

"I..." He glanced away but forced himself to look back at her. "Guilt."

Jess' eyes narrowed and Cougar could practically _see_ things click into place for her.

"Over the children? Okay, I can buy that," she said after a couple of loaded seconds. "But what I don't get is why you thought the best solution was to turn your back on Jake. Most people just find a fucking therapist."

"We were in Bolivia," Cougar replied, though that was a rather pathetic argument.

Jess seemed to agree, judging by her deadpan glare. "You're not there now, are you?" Jess wasn't backing down — not that Cougar had expected her to.

Cougar had to fight his urge to take a step back. Having her in his personal space wouldn't usually make him this uncomfortable, but when she was so unmistakably hostile it was difficult not to respond in kind.

"He won't talk to me."

"No, Cougar, _you_ won't talk to _him_ ," Jess snapped. "He would forgive you. If you just explained what happened he would welcome you back with open arms. The longer you wait, though, the more you'll hurt him."

Cougar let that sink in. He knew Jensen well enough to agree with Jess — Jensen wouldn't hesitate to take Cougar back. Jensen wasn't a pushover, but he was kind enough to forgive a lot — as long as there was a good reason.

But Cougar wasn't sure if he had one.

He looked down, shoulders tense under Jess' judging gaze. "I don't know how," he admitted, hating how lost he sounded.

"Well, not avoiding him is a start," Jess replied flatly, finally easing back. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Cornering him and just blurting it out would work just as well." She sighed, rubbing her temple. "I know talking isn't your thing, but you _need_ to tell him. He needs to _hear_ that he didn't do anything wrong. Eventually, if you tell him enough times, he'll believe you."

Cougar took a deep breath and nodded. Jensen would always value honesty and straightforwardness, no matter how disorganized he might seem.

"And Cougar?" Jess caught his gaze when he looked up. "If you don't fix this, you're not welcome inside my house ever again. Is that clear?"

A stiff nod was all Cougar could manage in reply. He knew he deserved the ultimatum but couldn't help the clench of panic he felt; the thought of never seeing Jess or Beth again was terrifying.

Jess swallowed. "I know you, Cougar, and I honestly don't think you meant to hurt him as much as you did. But if I have to choose between you or Jake, it's going to be Jake, every single time."

Cougar nodded again. Jess didn't have to explain herself, but he appreciated that she did so nonetheless.

She let out a tired sigh. "Just... fix it." Despite the sharpness of her words she looked sad.

"I'll try," Cougar replied. He couldn't promise more than that. For the time being, it would have to be enough.

He would try to set things right.

 

 

 

**PART III**

"Jake, can we talk?"

Jensen looked up from the toast he was buttering, panic flashing past in his eyes. Cougar saw him quench it a second later, replacing it with a wide, empty smile.

"Sure thing, Cougs. What's up?"

Cougar tried to breathe around the lump in his throat. There were dark circles under Jensen's eyes and even if he was standing in the bright, sunlit kitchen he looked duller somehow — as if he was drained of color.

Beth was at a friend's house and Jess at work, the others having made themselves scarce at Cougar's request. He needed time alone with Jensen, but ever since they broke up that had been remarkably difficult to achieve. At first Cougar had welcomed it — when he didn't know how to face Jensen without someone else there as a buffer — but now, when he was actually trying to set things right?

It was infuriating.

But even when Cougar got what he wanted he couldn't seem to figure out what to say. He just stood there, all too aware of the growing tension in Jensen's shoulders and how he was careful not to look in Cougar's direction.

"You want some toast?" Jensen asked, clearly desperate to fill the silence. He didn't take a bite of the slice he had already buttered, seemingly more interested in staring at it as it lay on the countertop.

"No, Jake, I—"

"Maybe Pooch wants some. I should go ask him." Jensen was trying to flee.

A year ago, Jensen would never have attempted to run away from Cougar — he had no reason to — and the fact that he did now broke Cougar's heart.

He sidestepped, blocking Jensen's path.

"Pooch isn't here." Cougar swallowed down the guilt. "Neither are the others."

Jensen recoiled as if Cougar was trying to hurt him, shoulders raised and arms held close to his sides. The panic was back, blooming brighter; for days Jensen had actively avoided being alone in the house with Cougar.

Cornering Jensen was a bad idea — no matter what Jess suggested — because the amount of fear Cougar saw in Jensen's eyes just about broke him. But Cougar knew he had to do this. He had to explain to Jensen that he had pushed him aside not because of something Jensen had done, but because of Cougar's own guilt. Jensen needed to know and, once he did, perhaps he would stop looking so frail and haunted.

Jensen started shaking his head — a small, twitchy movement that seemed to grow in time with his panic.

"No, please. I can't—" Jensen sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide and frantic. "Please don't. Please, Cougar, don't do this."

Never before had Cougar heard Jensen beg like that — as if the next words out of Cougar's mouth might make him shatter to pieces. Cougar had no idea what Jensen thought he was about to say, but it was obvious that it scared him beyond belief.

"I'm trying. I really am. I swear I'm trying." Jensen's back was pressed against the kitchen counter, as if he was desperate to put as much distance between them as possible. "Just don't— please don't. I'll try harder. Please don't do this."

"Do what?" Cougar had to ask — for the first time in a long while he had no idea what was running through Jensen's mind, but he could tell he wouldn't like it. Jensen was closing in on hysterical, and no matter how emotional he might seem on an everyday basis, that had never actually happened before.

Cougar had never seen Jensen this terrified.

"I can't hear you say it. I can't. Please, I'll do anything." Jensen swallowed, his eyes glassy. "I know it's my fault — I know I should have done something. I should have tried to bypass them jamming us or warned the chopper or just... _anything_."

Cougar stared in horror — this was even worse than he had feared. Jensen was trying to shoulder the blame for what happened in Bolivia?

No, Jensen thought that _Cougar_ blamed him for what happened in Bolivia.

"I know you hate me — I understand why — but I... I can't hear you say it. Please, Cougar. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll try harder. I'll stop talking. I promise I'll leave you alone. J-just don't—"

"Jake, no," Cougar interrupted, the words nothing more than a half-choked exhale. He moved closer, heedless of the way Jensen flinched, placing his hands on Jensen's arms. Cougar shook his head, trying to somehow find the words to take Jensen's pain away.

He hadn't expected that touching Jensen — for the first time in months — would have the opposite effect.

Jensen broke.

His wide shoulders hunched as the first sob wracked through him, his face crumpling. Cougar moved on instinct, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. Jensen sagged, his head landing on Cougar's shoulder and fingers tangling into the hem of Cougar's shirt. He didn't grip or cling but he wasn't pushing Cougar away, either. Jensen leaned against Cougar as if he was the only thing keeping him upright — as if he was too weak to stand on his own.

Cougar bore Jensen's weight without complaints — he would carry whatever Jensen needed him to carry. It was his fault that Jensen felt this way and he would face the consequences.

He would do his best to fix this.

He prayed he could still fix this.

Cougar didn't blame Jensen for the conclusions he had drawn. Cougar had never explained why he suddenly shied away from Jensen — that he didn't want to soil Jensen with his bloodied hands — or why he stopped talking to him. From Jensen's perspective, when faced with Cougar's silences and unwillingness to touch, it was understandable if he thought he was to blame. And the only explanation he had found was apparently that Cougar hated him for what had happened to those children in Bolivia.

Jensen couldn't have been more wrong.

"I don't hate you," Cougar whispered. Jensen shook in his arms and he hugged tighter. "Jake, I could never hate you."

Jensen's breaths where sharp and uneven, interspersed by heartbreaking sobs. Cougar wasn't even sure if Jensen could hear him.

"It's not your fault." Cougar closed his eyes, trying to offer as much safety and support as he could. "It was me. I pushed you away."

"I'm sorry," Jensen sobbed. His fingers tugged feebly at Cougar's shirt, as if he wanted to pull them closer together but didn't dare the risk of being rejected. "I'm so sorry."

"No, Jake, _I_ am sorry." Cougar was fairly certain that his words didn't reach Jensen — not yet, not when Jensen was still so upset — but he would keep repeating them until Jensen heard him. Jensen needed to understand that this wasn't his fault.

For now, all Cougar could do was hold Jensen close and wait for the tears to subside. He knew it might take a while; Jensen had carried these fears for months and he never handled that kind of pressure well. Jensen wasn't meant to bottle up emotions or suffer in silence.

So Cougar waited patiently, whispering soothing words of comfort while Jensen finally allowed himself to cry — possibly for the first time in months.

 

* * *

 

Once Jensen's breathing had stabilized, Cougar dared to pull back slightly. Jensen automatically raised his head but he was staring blankly, no doubt drained from the crying. Cougar reached up, ever so gently, and lifted Jensen's glasses off his nose to wipe away the lingering tears. Jensen's fingers were still hooked around the edge of Cougar's shirt, but hung limply rather than grasping the fabric.

"Jake?" Cougar kept his voice low, replacing the glasses with as much care as he could offer.

After a second of hesitation, Jensen's blue eyes met his. There was so much quiet suffering there — so much pain that Jensen had somehow been able to hide — and Cougar had to grit his teeth to hold back the guilt and self-loathing rising inside him.

This was his fault. He had caused Jensen so much agony by dismissing him without explaining why.

Jensen looked sad — beyond hope — as if he expected Cougar to finally tighten the noose he had unknowingly wrapped around Jensen's neck. Cougar's thumb stroked Jensen's cheek, the gesture familiar even after months apart. Jensen embraced the contact like a drowning man would seek air, even if the pain in his eyes only seemed to grow when he did.

"It's not your fault," Cougar repeated, making sure to hold Jensen's gaze as he spoke.

As expected, Jensen quickly looked away. "I could have done something," he croaked in reply, those wide shoulders of his slumping in defeat.

"No." Cougar shook his head, forcing himself to admit the truth he had also been running from — to face the lie that had fuelled his own self-hatred the past couple of months. "You couldn't. _We_ couldn't."

Jensen looked at him, his gaze empty and breaths trembling. "But what if—"

"No," Cougar interrupted gently, framing Jensen's face with his hands. "It is not your fault. Not Bolivia, and not us ending."

There was a small, wounded sound from Jensen — so desperate and pleading that Cougar reacted on instinct, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together.

"That was me. I pushed you away." Cougar closed his eyes against the burn of regret. "I shouldn't have. But I was afraid..." The words came unwillingly, tinged with shame, but Cougar knew he had to speak them. "I felt guilty. I blamed myself. I don't deserve you."

A ripple went through the air — Cougar could feel it as clearly as his own heartbeat — some firmness returning to Jensen's slumped shoulders. Jensen had instincts too, his protectiveness always flaring to life when those he loved needed it.

Cougar held his breath, not having been prepared to feel that again — the surge of Jensen's warm and gentle care.

"Cougs..." It was only a hushed whisper, but it contained everything Cougar thought he would never have — forgiveness, affection, and love.

It was Cougar's time to shiver when Jensen's hands settled on his hips, the touch as grounding as ever. Nothing ever grounded him the way Jensen did.

And he had never felt as lost as he had without Jensen.

" _Te amo_." Cougar didn't know what else to say. He was running out of words, feeling raw and vulnerable, but he knew he had to leave himself open — he had to bare everything — if he wanted Jensen to understand.

Jensen took a trembling breath. "I love you too, Cougar. I always will."

Cougar nodded, surprised by how frantic the movement was. He knew — he had always known. He had never doubted Jensen's devotion, only whether or not Cougar truly deserved to receive it.

He could feel Jensen's strength returning, slowly but surely — like a trickle of warm light finally visible through the darkness they had both surrounded themselves with. Cougar could feel it burn, bright and eager, when Jensen's hands wandered up his back, leeching the tension from Cougar's tightly wound muscles and easing the exhaustion he felt in his heart.

It felt like coming home.

" _Perdóname_."

"You don't have to apologize, Cougar."

So like Jensen, to forgive so quickly.

Cougar drew back, enough to catch Jensen's gaze despite his own discomfort.

"I do." He stroked Jensen's cheek. "I hurt you. I pushed you away. I was... foolish."

Jensen's expression was still unusually serious, but there was a flicker of his usual spark — faint, but still noticeable. Relief flooded Cougar, even if he knew that things were far from fine.

"We..." Jensen hesitated, glancing down before daring to meet Cougar's eyes again. "We can fix it?" There was so much fragile hope in those four words, and more forgiveness than Cougar probably deserved.

" _Sí_." Cougar nodded, his hand stroking through Jensen's hair, the strands soft against his fingers. "We can."

Jensen nodded too, a frail smile growing on his lips. "Okay. Good. That's good." He seemed to be speaking to himself as much as he was speaking to Cougar. "We can fix this."

Cougar let out a shivering breath.

They could fix this.

 

* * *

 

It took months of gentle reassurances and careful advances but eventually they managed to find that precious balance between them. They were more cautious than before, but that was expected — at least in the beginning. The time spent apart was still a raw, aching wound, but it healed a little bit more for each new day that passed.

Jess offered Cougar a firm nod of approval, which meant that he had earned her forgiveness, at least for the time being. Everything wasn't okay — that would take a while still — but they were getting there.

They could fix this.

The day Jensen finally felt confident enough to smile like he used to — wide and bright, eyes sparkling with happiness — Cougar wrapped his arms around him and refused to let go. Jensen didn't say anything, he just slid his arms around Cougar in return, grounding and safe, and hugged back.

There was hope for them yet.

 


	7. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt by Anonymous:**  
>  _I wish you would write a fic where Bucky runs into Jensen while still trying to recover his memories and Jensen helps him dispute protest from some because its right and he hacked some things and knows what the guy is going through and if giving him a place to stay helps, then thats what he'll do_
> 
>  
> 
>  **Rating/Warnings:** G / PTSD
> 
>  **Notes:** I did a short reply for this one at first (which sucked) and then I went back to write an actual drabble several months later. This focuses on JJ and Bucky, but there _are_ mentions of Cougar that makes this a Jensen/Cougar fic, so I'm posting it in this collection. I am so, so fond of Bucky Barnes  <3  
> [Original posts can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/134026306807/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-bucky-runs-into)

 

Jensen made sure to make just enough noise for it to be noticeable — yet not enough to startle — when he unlocked and pushed open the door. He stepped into the cramped one-room apartment, smiling at the dark shadow huddled next to the window.

"Hi there, Mister," he greeted, as always. It was a neutral term that had proven safer than any actual names.

No knives came flying and no bullets whistled past, so Jensen assumed today was a good day. That knowledge made some of the tension leave his shoulders. He shuffled further into the room after gently closing the door behind himself — he knew better than to cut off his only escape route before he was sure he wouldn't be met with violence.

"So, I brought you more food, and also some light reading," he said conversationally, placing the grocery bag on the counter in the small kitchenette, before unlooping the second bag from around his wrist. He could feel eyes tracking his movements but remained relaxed, keeping his hands visible at all times, just in case.

When he eventually looked up, he met the cautious blue gaze of James Buchanan Barnes.

Well, Jensen still wasn't entirely sure if _James_ knew that he was James Buchanan Barnes, but they were getting there.

James sat a little straighter that day, looking more alert than usual — as if he was taking more notice of his surroundings rather than just focusing on the chaotic mess inside his head. He looked a little worse for wear, sure, his long hair obscuring parts of his face and his stubble moving into Actual Beard Territory. But Jensen could also see the progress, in the way James wasn't curled up in the corner of the room, shaking, or pulling out weapons left and right.

Jensen grinned, placing the book bag next to the groceries. "You've been keeping track of the neighbors?"

James hesitated before nodding, glancing briefly out the window he sat by, angled so that he could view the street below in the gap between the blinds and window frame without being seen himself.

"So, has Brenda dumped that douche yet?" Jensen asked, leaning back against the counter behind him.

James shook his head, his expression showing a flicker of distaste — he clearly didn't approve of Brenda's choice in life partner, either.

"Man, I can't believe she'd keep him around after all the shit he's done." Jensen turned and started putting the groceries away. "You know, if anyone treated my sister like that I'd... well, I wouldn't have to do a damned thing, to be honest, since she'd already be there kicking the shit out of the guy. But I'd _definitely_ show up and cheer her on."

There was no reply — there rarely was — but Jensen knew James was listening. After spending years with Cougar, Jensen could tell when he had people's attention even if they weren't necessarily engaging in the conversation.

To be honest, Cougar was one of the reasons why Jensen was even there to begin with.

Well, kind of.

Cougar didn't approve of Jensen's extracurricular activities, saying it was too dangerous. And he was probably right because, well, _Cougar_ , but Jensen was nothing if not stubborn. Cougar had tried to talk him out of it more than once, but James — with his tense posture and forced silences — reminded Jensen far too much of what Cougar had almost become, after Bolivia.

And, since Jensen was very fond of Cougar, he couldn't help but feel a certain amount of compassion and concern for James, by extension.

Okay, _a lot_ — so sue him.

Jensen knew he was meddling in things that were way above his head — the Avengers and their comic book supervillains was as weird as things got these days — but Jensen _knew_ he could help. First of all, he had been able to find a lot of information on James' life and situation thanks to the data bomb that had been dropped when the shit in DC went down, drawing the conclusion that the guy really needed someone to depend on right now. Second, Jensen knew quite a lot about PTSD and what it was like to live with that kind of trauma, so he could offer useful tips when needed. And third, well — James let him come close enough to help.

Jensen's theory was that he looked enough like Steve Rogers to seem safe and familiar, but not so much like Steve Rogers that he got his face smashed in. There was a tricky balance between the two, but Jensen managed it quite beautifully as long as he kept the beard and the glasses.

The whole thing was still a gamble, though, and there was no telling if James would snap at some point and kill him — intentionally or otherwise. But for each day that passed, James seemed calmer. Not _happy_ , exactly, but calmer, and Jensen dared to hope for the future.

James had been through some pretty nasty shit and he deserved so much better than this.

So Jensen had set him up with a small apartment in a relatively safe part of town and made sure he had food, clothes, and entertainment. Jensen had no idea if James ever left to explore the outside world, since he seemed perfectly happy just sitting by the window, looking at the people passing by. Which, on second thought, was pretty depressing, but at least it was progress.

James didn't flinch at every sound he heard and whenever he _did_ speak, it was in coherent English sentences rather than fragmented pieces of Russian thrown in between the odd English. So he was clearly improving — the other day he had even been close to a smile when Jensen had cracked a corny joke.

James was relaxing, inch by inch, and eventually he would be able to start working through the trauma.

And as long as that frail but stubborn spark was still there in James' eyes, Jensen would keep trying. If he was in any way capable of helping someone in need — especially someone in as dire need as James — Jensen would. He knew they still had a long way to go, but he was determined to see it through to the end.

Eventually, James would find his way back home.

 

* * *

 

The blond with the glasses was always smiling. It seemed surreal for someone to be smiling so much, but it fitted this man, somehow. He was in constant motion, always talking, always smiling, always happy. That should have been annoying, but it wasn't.

He'd introduced himself as Jake Jensen, but neither of them addressed each other by name.

Jake just called him "Mister," since he'd lashed out when Jake had said Barnes or James. Those names didn't fit anymore — like shoes that had become too small, leaving blisters and aches where they hadn't before. Or maybe the names sounded weird because they hadn't been used in so long. Maybe, at some point, he'd get them back — but he wasn't quite ready yet.

He watched as Jake put away the groceries, talking at length about his sister and niece — as always. Jake always had a story to tell.

That was a word he used a lot when describing Jake.

Always.

For being so impulsive, Jake was also strangely consistent. There were no surprises as soon as one got used to the norm — or whatever passed as the norm when it came to Jake. There was comfort in that.

He wasn't sure why Jake kept coming. To be honest, he'd thought Jake would lose interest within a week, but he returned, every third day, like clockwork. Jake never said what he worked with, but his schedule had to be pretty flexible.

He knew Jake had to have been a soldier at some point — he recognized the way Jake carried himself. Somehow, though, Jake didn't seem like a threat. Perhaps it was all the smiling. It was genuine smiling, not fake smiling, or cold, sinister smiling.

Jake always smiled.

Listening to Jake talk was soothing, to the point where he sometimes wished he could find the words to answer. The few times he had, Jake always looked so pleased. His face would light up, his smile growing impossibly wide, like he just couldn't contain the excitement he felt.

"Hey, I got you something else." Jake's words brought him back to the present.

He looked on, silent, while Jake patted his pockets until he found what he was looking for, producing a phone. Jake placed it on the table, knowing better than to step too close.

"It has internet access if you're interested in that kind of thing, but also some really cool games if you're feeling bored." Jake gave him a calm, steady look. "And, in case you want to contact me, my number is in there, okay?"

It took some effort, but he was able to answer with a croaked, "Yeah."

Jake beamed. "Awesome. Now I need to get going because my husband might in fact kill me if I don't show up on time for this thing we're doing, and I really want to avoid getting shot at if I can. I had enough of that a couple of years ago." Jake was backing towards the door with eager, bouncing steps. "I'll see you again soon, okay?"

A simple nod would have to do that time — Jake seemed to accept that.

Jake had one foot out the door when he paused, hesitating for a second. "You can call me anytime, okay? Like, no matter the hour." His words were as sincere as his gaze. "I'll always answer."

Always.

"I know." The words just slipped out, taking them both by surprise.

Jake caught himself first, smiling — softer this time, fond and gentle in a way that was both painful and soothing — before nodding.

"Good. See you around, Mister."

"See you," was the best reply he could manage, but judging by the look on Jake's face it was more than enough.

Jake closed and locked the door after himself when he left, as always, and when he stepped out onto the street below he looked up at the window, waving with a big, happy smile on his face — as always.

It was impossible not to follow Jake with his gaze, watching until he disappeared around the corner. He'd be back, though, because he always returned. Jake was consistent and dependable and safe.

There was comfort in that.

He didn't have many constants in his life — not anymore, when his handlers were gone and the man on the bridge had turned out to be someone he knew after all — but somehow, Jake Jensen had become one of his firm points. Someone to rely on. Someone that would always come back, no matter what.

He found he liked that, smiling softly as he leaned his head against the window frame.

Always.

 


	8. Play For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by[Mafiamoll](http://mafiamoll.tumblr.com/):** _this is probs the stupidest idea ever but like imagine cougar playing the guitar and being amazing af at it (becuz its COUGAR) and jensen is SO IN LOVE but trying to cover for it and jokingly suggests Cougs play something stupid like spongebob and Cougs just looks him straight in the eye and does this [ vine. co/v/i6XmMiXrlUX ]_
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / None
> 
>  **Notes:** I just really like writing JJ when he fawns over Cougar, I guess? Being someone who has never seen an episode of SpongeBob in her entire life, it took me a while to find the actual title for the song featured in the vine. I figured that JJ would know it, though, so I kinda had to, you know?  
> [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/143226278757/this-is-probs-the-stupidest-idea-ever-but-like)

 

Jensen had never claimed not to be partial. Fact was, he was _ridiculously_ partial, especially when it concerned certain things — like Cougar. Jensen was _very_ partial to Cougar.

That didn't make him stupid, however. Well, a little biased and lovesick, sure, but he was well aware of his weaknesses, thank you very much, and did what he could to counteract them.

 _Of course_ Jensen knew that Cougar wasn't the hottest guy in the world — that was subjective, first of all, and therefore impossible to measure — but he was definitely the hottest guy in _Jensen's_ world. And _of course_ Jensen knew that Cougar didn't actually know how to do _everything_ , though he did, admittedly, do a pretty good job at making it seem that way.

Jensen had learned not to underestimate Cougar's seemingly innate ability to make himself more desirable without even trying — a trait which made being in love with him ten times more frustrating. On any given day, Jensen had to fight an urge to kiss Cougar silly. And, every once in a while, Cougar did something that forced Jensen to bite the inside of his cheek and just _breathe_ through the overwhelming affection.

Being secretly in love with your best friend really was as painful as high school flicks made it seem.

Cougar was just so amazing, and most things he did only made Jensen fall in love even more, to his great dismay. There should have been a limit — some kind of rock bottom that Jensen could reach, but that didn't seem to be the case.

The frustrating part was that Cougar did it so effortlessly. He wasn't _trying_ to impress, Jensen knew that, but Cougar still managed, time and time again. It was so unfair.

And Jensen was stupidly, helplessly in love.

So the day Cougar found a scratched but otherwise serviceable guitar in one of the safe house's closets — and looked at it with _delight_ and _eagerness_ — Jensen's usually overactive brain screeched to a panicked halt.

 _Oh no_.

Cougar settled down on the couch adjacent to Jensen's armchair, handling the guitar with the kind of familiarity that suggested previous experiences with the instrument. Jensen was ready to bolt right then and there. This was _not_ going to be good for his state of mind — or his libido, for that matter. Yet somehow he stayed, probably due to latent masochism.

Cougar only plucked on the strings at first, testing the sound and tuning when necessary. Jensen forced himself not to stare, trying to focus on his laptop screen instead, though he could admit that he had completely forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.

By the time Cougar actually started _playing_ , Jensen was already lost.

Cougar was _good_ — in that infuriating, wonderful way he was good at _everything_.

Jensen didn't recognize the melody but it was soft and soothing, heavy with that special brand of effortless sensuality Cougar possessed. Each carefully weaved note seemed to resonate within Jensen, until he had to grit his teeth not to blurt out something inappropriate — like a stumbling love confession. Cougar looked so peaceful, completely engrossed in what he was doing, a gentle smile on his face.

It was a while since Jensen had seen Cougar look so happy.

Sure, Cougar had smiled since Bolivia, but rarely with this kind of calmness to it. There had been a visible weight resting on his shoulders — a weight that now seemed to have lifted, at least momentarily.

The sight of Cougar's contentment made Jensen's heart beat faster, fondness growing in his chest. He was so in love it was almost pathetic, and he desperately needed something to distract him from how much he wanted reach across the space between them and kiss his best friend.

That wouldn't end well for Jensen.

"Do you take requests?" he asked, pretending not to hear the slight squeak to his own voice.

Cougar looked up and met Jensen's gaze. He apparently didn't need to see his hands to keep playing, the soft, intimate melody still curling around Jensen like a gentle caress. It was breathtakingly distracting — even more so when Cougar tilted his head to the side, just so, and _smiled_.

That was hot. That was so insanely hot that Jensen had to hold his breath to stifle the strangled noise at the back of his throat. Sweet baby Jesus this was so not fair.

Jensen fumbled for something — _anything_ — that might break the tension.

"SpongeBob!" he blurted out, making sure to grin like the big dork that he was. "Play me some SpongeBob, Cougs."

Not even Cougar could make that sexy, right? Besides, Cougar probably didn't even know any of the songs from SpongeBob since it wasn't exactly his kind of show.

Jensen should have known better.

For a fraction of a second Jensen thought he had managed to save himself. Cougar placed his right hand flat against the strings, abruptly cutting off the tantalizing melody he had been playing. That was all well and good, until Jensen saw Cougar's expression — the blank, calculating one that meant that Cougar was meticulously plotting his next course of action.

That was _never_ a good thing and Jensen felt a trickle of dread.

A beat of silence, then Cougar started playing again, fingers confidently plucking at the strings — as if he had done this countless times before. Cougar's expression didn't change in the slightest and his gaze held Jensen's, making it impossible to look away. There was an unspoken challenge in his dark eyes, and an unmistakable tinge of mischief.

Jensen, on his part, found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

The fact that Cougar knew how to play the "Twelfth Street Rag" from SpongeBob was enough to light a burst of warmth in Jensen's chest, but the knowledge of _why_ Cougar did was what really made Jensen's head spin.

He had never made Cougar watch more than one or two episodes and whenever Jensen was on one of his SpongeBob binges, Clay forced him to wear headphones. Cougar couldn't have overheard Jensen watching the show, in other words.

That only left one option — one that made Jensen's heart ache from overwhelming emotions.

Cougar had watched SpongeBob with Beth.

And he had apparently done so enough times to learn at least one of the songs by heart. Jensen had always known that Cougar adored Beth — to the point where she might as well have been his own niece — but this went beyond what Jensen's poor lovestruck mind could handle.

How on earth was Jensen supposed to resist Cougar?

"I love you."

Jensen didn't realize that he had said the words out loud until Cougar's fingers stilled against the strings, surprise flickering across his face. The tone and emphasis had made it abundantly clear that Jensen didn't mean that in a friendly or brotherly fashion.

Jensen sat frozen stiff, inches from panicking. He shouldn't have said that. He had been keeping quiet about his crush for _years_ and he chose _now_ to blurt it out? That was stupid and reckless and—

"I know."

It took a second before Jensen's brain caught up. The look on Cougar's face — the warm, breathtaking fondness — helped a great deal. He didn't look the least bit angry. Actually, Jensen would describe Cougar's smile as _hopeful_ , with a tinge of relief.

"Did you just Han Solo me?" Jensen asked incredulously.

Cougar's smile grew into a grin. "I might have."

He totally had.

Jensen let out a small noise that was part delight and part agony. "You have _got_ to stop doing that."

"Do what?" Cougar asked innocently, head tilted to the side.

Jensen swallowed, gathering up what little courage he had left. "Make it so easy to love you."

It was bold, yes, but Jensen was willing to take a chance. If he was reading Cougar correctly — and he usually was — then Jensen might actually have a shot at this. Cougar looked like he wanted this too.

A brief silence lingered between them, but Cougar was smiling when he finally replied. "I love you too."

Somehow, Jensen remembered how to breathe. He had never thought that Cougar would say those words to him — he wasn't entirely sure how to deal with the fact that Cougar had. Jensen's heartbeat was racing, his fingers lying useless against his keyboard, and he couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Fortunately for him, Cougar was better at keeping a level head.

"Come." Cougar scooted to the side, making room for Jensen on the couch. "I'll teach you to play."

That wasn't quite what Jensen had expected, but he would take it. Anything that allowed him to sit close to Cougar was too good to pass up on.

So he carefully placed his laptop on the coffee table and got up from the armchair. He moved pretty much on autopilot, thoughts jumbled and dazed. He had just admitted to loving his best friend but said friend didn't seem to mind — he reciprocated, even.

Jensen wasn't quite sure how to proceed, to be honest.

He sank down next to Cougar on the couch, fumbling when he was handed the guitar. Cougar's hand settled on Jensen's arm, warm and grounding and thoroughly distracting. Jensen automatically looked up, feeling his stomach flip when he saw Cougar's smile.

And when Cougar leaned in and placed a soft, chaste kiss on Jensen's lips, well — he might just have whimpered a little. Cougar didn't seem to hold that against him, even if he pulled back fairly soon. Far too soon, if you asked Jensen.

"Okay?" Cougar asked, his thumb stroking the bare skin on Jensen's forearm which, again, was incredibly distracting.

Jensen still managed a nod, albeit a slightly twitchy one. "Yeah. Absolutely. Frickin' awesome."

Cougar let out a fond snort and Jensen couldn't help grinning in response, happiness bubbling inside of him.

Yeah, this was absolutely perfect.

 


	9. 2AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Two anons and [crankyghoul](http://crankyghoul.tumblr.com/) asked for "Sorry, were you sleeping?" from [THIS](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/146712778193/ghostling-four-word-prompts-please-come) prompt post.
> 
>  **Rating/Warnings:** G / None
> 
>  **Notes:** This particular prompt was apparently very popular for Cougar/Jensen! And it was fun to write, though I can admit that I have no idea where I was going with it. So it turned into sweet, established relationship fluff with Cougar being his usual awesome self and JJ being adorable. Which is also the usual, I guess?  
> [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/146761530052/for-the-four-word-prompts-sorry-were-you)

 

A low, insistent hum pulled Cougar from his sleep. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that it was his phone, vibrating against the cheap motel nightstand. He glanced at the clock next to the bed — 2AM — which was enough to let him know who would be on the other end.

He reached for his phone, guided by the brightly glowing screen. Cougar didn't bother to turn on the lights or sit up, accepting the call despite the late hour.

"Sorry, were you sleeping?" Jensen blurted out before Cougar even managed to open his mouth.

"No," he lied. Cougar knew that his voice was stable and alert enough to make that sound like the truth, but there were no guarantees that Jensen would fall for it. Jensen knew him too well, and had an uncanny ability for detecting even the smallest of shifts in Cougar's tone and mannerism. Hiding things from him was nearly impossible.

Cougar had no idea how he was still able to cheat when they played cards — Jensen should have caught him ages ago. Or maybe Jensen _let_ him win. That wouldn't surprise Cougar one bit.

There was a brief silence on the other end, then a shaky inhale.

"I can't sleep."

Cougar had guessed as much.

Jensen was in New Hampshire with Jess and Beth while the rest of the team had headed off to California to investigate a lead on Max. Usually, Jensen would have been delighted to spend time with his sister and niece, except this time it wasn't of his own choice.

Three weeks ago, Jensen had taken a bad fall during their last clash with Max's goons, which had resulted in a broken leg and two cracked ribs. They might have been able to work around a broken arm — Jensen could still type surprisingly fast with one hand — but having him hobble around on crutches made him a liability, both to himself and the team. He simply couldn't move fast enough, or hold and fire a gun as accurately.

Cougar hadn't argued when Clay had ordered Jensen to stay at his sister's and get some rest, but he had known that the separation wouldn't be easy on them. They kept in touch, of course, since Jensen helped with all the research and forwarded information on a daily basis, but that clearly wasn't enough.

Jensen was nervous, being so far away from the rest of his team, and the team was limping without one of its members.

Two, technically, if one counted the fact that Roque had died six months ago.

"I like Pooch's new shirt. It's very retro." Jensen obviously tried to sound enthusiastic but Cougar heard the tightness hiding underneath. Jensen was, in all likelihood, sleep deprived and — judging by the distant noises in the background — playing Bejeweled to keep himself focused.

So, rather than Jensen not being _able_ to sleep, he was knowingly keeping himself awake — even though he should have gone to bed hours ago. There could be only one reason for that, especially considering Jensen's comment about Pooch's shirt.

"You hacked the cameras." Cougar didn't bother to make it sound like a question.

He had taken note of the two surveillance cameras at the motel — one inside the office and the other facing the parking lot — and it was no doubt child's play for Jensen to access the footage, even if he was all the way off in New Hampshire. Jensen's reach was, quite frankly, terrifying.

"Well, I, uh..." Jensen hesitated, which was as good as a confession.

Cougar didn't particularly care if Jensen had hacked the cameras or not — they had done worse things over the years — but at least it served as an explanation as to why Jensen refused to go to sleep.

He was watching the feed, making sure no one was sneaking up on his team.

Since Jensen was so far away, that was probably the only thing he could think of doing that would help keep them safe.

Cougar rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes had adjusted enough to the low light that he could see the bigger cracks in the paint.

"Jake," he said softly, "we are safe. Go to sleep."

"But what if something happens? I just..." There was a subtle tremble in Jensen's voice — one that made Cougar close his eyes and wish that they weren't an entire country apart.

It wasn't just the team that felt incomplete without Jensen.

"You worry, I know." Cougar wasn't good at talking — especially not over the phone — but he would make an effort for Jensen. He always made an effort for Jensen. "I understand. But you need to sleep."

"It's almost morning now anyway. I might as well stay up," Jensen replied stubbornly. And, true enough, considering the time difference it had to be around five in the morning in New Hampshire.

Jensen had been awake all night, keeping an eye on them.

Fondness and exasperation was battling inside Cougar. Jensen's desire to protect those he loved was admirable, but the fact that he did so at the expense of his own well-being had never sat well with Cougar.

"Jake—"

"I hate that I can't be there," Jensen interrupted. "I know I can't be — Clay's right — but that doesn't mean I have to like it. And of course I trust you guys to do a good job without me, it's not that, but... I just can't stand the thought of something happening while I'm not there. I miss you and the team. You most of all, obviously, and I can't—"

" _Te amo_." Cougar's words were soft enough to almost be a whisper, but Jensen heard them and fell silent all the same. He had a habit of doing that, no matter how many times Cougar told him that he loved him — as if those words would never lose their impact, always managing to make Jensen's world stop, if only for a couple of seconds.

A soft smile spread on Cougar's lips. "I miss you too, Jake. Please, go to sleep."

Jensen exhaled shakily, which soon turned into a tired chuckle. "That's not fair, Cougs. You know I can't say no to you when you start talking Spanish."

"Go to bed," Cougar insisted, voice full of tenderness. "We will be fine."

Cougar could tell that Jensen was hesitating, but it only took a couple of beats before he let out a defeated sigh.

"Fine, I'll go to bed," he relented, though he didn't sound happy about it. Jensen cleared his throat. "Will you... I mean, can you—"

Cougar was pretty certain what Jensen was trying to say.

"I will stay with you," he assured. "Until you fall asleep."

Sleeping without Jensen's firm weight next to him had proved a challenge, and he suspected that Jensen was having the same problem. The least Cougar could do was keep him company.

"Thank you." The amount of gratitude and vulnerability in Jensen's tone made a wave of protectiveness rise within Cougar.

"Always, _mi amor_." Cougar closed his eyes. "Always."

"I love you too, you know that, right?" Jensen mumbled softly, the sounds in the background indicating that he was getting ready for bed.

Cougar smiled, phone pressed against his ear. "I know," he replied.

He had never doubted that.

 


	10. A Second Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by Anonymous:** _I don't know if you're still taking these, but I wish you would write a fic where Jensen thinks Cougar died at the oil rig (I haven't read his death yet, just the beginning of Grief), but he actually escaped and is trying to find Jensen, who's doing his damnedest to disappear, and like in Grief he tries and fails to outrun his grief & Cougar can't find him because Jensen's fucking great at his job, but eventually he does and puts him back together after he fell apart. Sorry if it's an awful idea_
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** T / Spoilers for the comics, Suicidal thoughts and almost attempted suicide, Grief
> 
>  **Notes:** When this was orginally posted on my Tumblr way back in 2015, it was written in a way that didn't fit AO3 (too meta, I guess you can say) but I decided to give it a quick edit and here we are. It's a fix-it for the comics, even if I glossed over how on earth Cougar survived, simply for the sake of the prompt. I mean, I'm not going to lie — I desperately want to change that ending and I will do it even if it defies all logic. Well, at least this once. [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/121442985207/i-dont-know-if-youre-still-taking-these-but-i)

 

The first thing on Cougar's mind once he regains consciousness is Jensen. He breathes through the pain, confused and disoriented — not sure how he's still alive — but none of that is important.

He has to find Jensen. That's the only thing that matters — the only clear thought inside his head. Cougar fought _so hard_ to make sure that Jensen got off that oil rig and he desperately wants to know if he managed to save him.

No, he _needs_ to know.

He needs to know that Jensen is safe.

The problem is that Jensen knows how to disappear when he wants to. Cougar might be good at tracking, but finding Jensen when he tries his best to hide is easier said than done. Many underestimate Jensen — even Cougar, sometimes — but when it comes to this, Cougar knows it won't be easy.

He has to wait two months before he's even well enough to try.

By then, he's high-strung and impatient, full of purpose and anxious energy, desperate to find whatever trail Jensen might have left behind. Cougar searches for _weeks_ and when he finally _does_ find what he's looking for, he almost wishes he hadn't.

Following a trail of recently vacated hotel rooms — some so recent he can almost feel the crackling energy of Jensen's presence in the air — with their smashed mirrors and empty bottles, _reeking_ of grief and despair, isn't Cougar's idea of a good time.

In one he finds the remains of an obliterated laptop, wires and pieces of plastic scattered everywhere — torn apart with such fury that Cougar can barely breathe. Seeing it makes his heart ache, because he knows what that kind of destruction means.

He can tell Jensen is spiraling, even from afar.

He thinks he sees Jensen out on the street at one point — just a glimpse of blond hair and the flare of a pair of glasses catching the sunlight — but he's gone before Cougar can find him.

Or maybe he was never there to begin with.

Sometimes, Cougar feels like he's chasing a ghost, even if he's supposed to be the one who died. He can only find traces of Jensen — fading imprints and reflections that seem a mere shadow of the best friend he knows so well — and the more time that passes, the more desperate Cougar gets.

When he eventually manages to catch up with Jensen — in a run-down hotel in Hong Kong — he doesn't get the reaction he expects. There are no happy exclamations at seeing Cougar — not even angry ones. Jensen just looks at him, indifferent almost, and tilts his head to the side.

"I didn't even feel it," Jensen murmurs quietly, as if talking to himself.

"Felt what?" Cougar has to ask.

"The bullet," Jensen replies, as if that should be obvious. The causal nod towards Jensen's firearm, lying on the rickety bedside table, makes Cougar's insides freeze. But Jensen smiles — an aching, cracked imitation of his usual smile. "I'm glad it worked, though. I always... hoped it would."

Jensen clears his throat, but it doesn't quite remove the hoarseness. It sounds as if he hasn't spoken in days — maybe even weeks — and that's so wrong Cougar doesn't even know what to feel.

"I'm glad I got to see you again. It seemed drastic, you know — and I can't quite remember doing it, but maybe that's normal?" Jensen frowns. "Do you remember when you died?"

Cougar can't breathe. He's looking at his best friend but sees nothing but a shadow. He knows Jensen is in there somewhere — Cougar refuses to believe otherwise — but this is his fault. _He_ did this, by making Jensen live without him. By sending Jensen away, even though they could have left together. But Cougar just hadn't been able to bear the thought of losing Jensen; to have him stay and die alongside with him.

Cougar would rather see Jensen live — to know that what he holds most dear is still alive and well out there in the world, even if Cougar's not there with him.

But that didn't work. Jensen obviously can't live without Cougar, just like Cougar wouldn't know how to live without Jensen.

He should have seen this coming.

Cougar moves.

He wraps his arms around Jensen, with just as much desperation as when they thought Roque had killed him. That had been Cougar's fault too. Why is it always his fault? He had tried to _save_ Jensen, but only managed to make things worse.

But it's not too late. Cougar refuses to believe that it is.

"You're not dead." Cougar can feel the thrum of Jensen's heartbeat — his breaths and the warmth of his skin. "And neither am I."

Jensen doesn't seem to believe him, but that's fine. Cougar will convince him, no matter how long it takes. They have time. They're both alive, that's what matters — they have a second chance. Cougar saved Jensen in New Jerusalem and he can do it again.

He _will_ do it again.

There's nothing he won't do for Jensen.

 


	11. House Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by Anonymous:** _I wish you would write a fic in which the Losers are in a HP based world._
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / None (except various aggressive household appliances and a tiny bit of foul language)
> 
> **Notes:** So. I LOVE the _Harry Potter_ universe. It's amazing. BUT, I'm honestly not that fond of Hogwarts AU's. I have this thing against the house system, you see, because I don't think that you should sort people after personality when they're _eleven_. When I was eleven, I was a Hufflepuff, but now I'm a Slytherin. You can't possibly know what kind of person a child will grow up to become, just as little as I can know how certain adult characters started out. I can _guess_ , but that always feels kind of half-assed. So, instead I wrote a meta-ish drabble about them as adults that I posted on my Tumblr ages ago, and yesterday wrote this actual drabble based on that meta-ish drabble. It, uh, got longer than planned. [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/119042493597/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-in-which-the-losers)

 

The average house investigation an Auror was sent on never amounted to much. Sometimes a complaint had been filed by concerned magical citizens, other times the Aurors intercepted suspicious reports filed with the non-magical police. What they all had in common was that the witness — however well-meaning — was often overreacting.

Reports of strange, flickering lights seen in a neighbor's windows often turned out to be a TV left on or malfunctioning fairy lights — of the non-magical kind. Complaints about suspicious noises in the middle of the night were usually traced back to under-stimulated pets, household appliances, and, on one memorable occasion, a particularly loud round of Finnish karaoke.

Naturally, Cougar knew it was better to be safe than sorry and followed the proper procedure on every such call, but he had to admit that the Aurors in charge of threat detection were, on the whole, overly paranoid. Most of the time, whatever had caused the disturbance was completely harmless and not magical in the slightest.

When he found himself standing outside the apartment labeled 4B in a non-descriptive building in an average part of town, Cougar expected much of the same. According to the file Pooch had snagged before they left the office, the apartment was leased by one Jacob James Jensen, a twenty-six-year-old wizard with no previous record. The photo attached to the file clearly hadn't been updated since his school days, showing a brightly smiling young man with a shock of tousled, blond hair and a pair of round glasses that were just a little too big for his face.

Cougar and Pooch where there because a passing witch had heard loud shouts, followed by what she had described as "a colorful explosion," and decided to file a report. What exactly she thought two Aurors could do — two days after the fact, no less — was beyond Cougar. Some people were a little _too_ eager to tell on their fellow mages, in Cougar's opinion.

He kept his thoughts to himself while Pooch rang the doorbell, bracing himself for whatever he would find inside the apartment. At least they knew the tenant was a wizard, meaning that Cougar and Pooch didn't have to try and skirt around the subject of magic while finding out what had caused the loud noises.

The door opened and Cougar's first thought was that someone _really_ had to update this man's photo. The old one wasn't doing him justice. The hair was still a spiky, blond mess and the glasses resting on his nose were still round — if of a more suitable size — but the rest had changed rather dramatically. Mr. Jensen was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore a t-shirt at least one size too small — which was quite the change from the slightly dorky, slightly awkward look he'd had in his last school photo.

"Mr. Jensen?" Pooch asked. He usually handled all the talking during their investigations.

"Yeah, that's me." Mr. Jensen pushed his glasses higher on his nose, his gaze sweeping quickly over Pooch and Cougar. His smile held the slightly awkward politeness most showed when realizing they were talking to an officer of the law. "How can I be of assistance?"

Cougar had half a mind to ask how in Merlin's name someone was allowed to have such pretty eyelashes, but that would probably be unprofessional.

"A complaint has been filed," Pooch informed, smiling back, just as politely. "Concerning loud noises. This would have been two days ago."

Mr. Jensen tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful, then brightened when he seemed to remember what Pooch was referring to.

"Oh! That was probably Mr. Freeze." He backed up a step, gesturing for Pooch and Cougar to come inside. "I'll show you."

"That's very forthcoming of you, Mr. Jensen. Thank you," Pooch replied, stepping over the threshold.

Cougar followed, eyes flickering curiously over Mr. Jensen's apartment. The place was, quite frankly, a mess. Things were scattered over every available surface, the couch barely visible underneath a collection of books, wires, and what Cougar suspected was dirty laundry. A small cauldron stood off in one corner, spots of spilled potions both on the table and floor beneath it. The entire apartment was a health hazard and, if Cougar counted correctly, inches away from breaking a total of four safety regulations.

That, however, was not the most alarming part. No, the thing that made Pooch recoil and Cougar's spine stiffen was the _growling_ refrigerator in the small kitchenette.

Mr. Jensen walked over and fondly patted the vibrating appliance. "It was just a misunderstanding, I promise." His smile was disturbingly carefree.

"A... misunderstanding?" Pooch's voice was pitched a little higher than usual, probably because the refrigerator had just given off another rumbling growl and screeched forward an inch on the checkered plastic rug.

"Yes," Mr. Jensen confirmed, clearly not at all bothered by his aggressive fridge. "Involving mustard. I had no idea Mr. Freeze didn't like it." He pointed towards the opposite wall, where a bright yellow stain decorated the wallpaper. "He spat it out."

"Of course he did," Pooch replied, though he said it with the deadpan voice he got whenever he thought things had escalated way above his pay grade — or comprehension.

Mr. Jensen tilted his head to the side. "It looks a bit like a Jackson Pollock, doesn't it?"

While Cougar couldn't exactly claim to be an art expert, he sincerely doubted Mr. Jensen's observation.

"It looks like mustard," he therefore said, trying not to feel endeared when Mr. Jensen's response was a disappointed pout. That should no longer be considered adorable if done by a twenty-six-year-old.

"Mr. Jensen," Pooch cut in, " _why_ , exactly, is your refrigerator behaving this way?"

The smile that spread on Mr. Jensen's face was practically radiant, as if Pooch had just asked him the question he had been waiting his entire life to hear. Mr. Jensen then launched into a lengthy explanation that, in a matter of seconds, got too complex for Cougar to follow. He had done fairly well at school — at least well enough to become an Auror — but this was clearly something else entirely.

Mr. Jensen spoke of particles and electromagnetics and waves and the essence of magic, all while gesturing enthusiastically, hands flitting back and forth. Cougar and Pooch could do nothing but watch, unsure of whether to interrupt or not.

"So, you see," Mr. Jensen said, eventually beginning to slow down, "Mr. Freeze spitting food on the wall is simply a side effect of the new energy source."

"Right." Pooch didn't sound like he understood at all, but he looked quite close to laughing. Whether it would be a happy or hysterical laugh was difficult to tell, however.

Cougar, on his part, was trying not to smile. Mr. Jensen was quite adorable.

Pooch cleared his throat. "So, you're saying that—"

A sudden hum — whining and shockingly loud — drowned out Pooch's words. Cougar saw something streak across the floor, heading straight for Pooch, and his wand was out a split second later. But, before Cougar had time to cast, warm, strong fingers closed around his own.

"No!" Mr. Jensen sounded panicked, tightly gripping Cougar's hand. "Not Dusty!"

"Holy _shit_!" Pooch exclaimed, quickly backing away from the charging yellow box.

It was a small, chubby vacuum cleaner, Cougar realized a moment later.

"She's friendly, I promise!" Mr. Jensen put his foot against the vacuum cleaner, stopping its rampage. The wheels kept spinning for a couple of seconds, the hose swaying like the tail of an aggravated cat, but eventually it seemed to power down, leaving behind a deafening silence.

Mr. Jensen's fingers were still wrapped around Cougar's.

"What... _what_ is _that_?" Pooch sounded both confused and alarmed. His wand was in his hand but he didn't raise it.

"My vacuum cleaner," Mr. Jensen replied, as if that should have been obvious.

"Yes, I can see that." Pooch, like Cougar, had grown up in a household where they used a lot of non-magical appliances — he no doubt recognized a vacuum cleaner. "But why the _fuck_ is it attacking me?"

Pooch was usually more professional than this, but Cougar supposed he couldn't blame him for being traumatized. Vacuum cleaners didn't usually attack people. Now that Cougar thought about it, there was no way it should have been able to.

His gaze searched for the power cord but found none. That shouldn't be possible. Non-magical machines needed electricity and there was no magical equivalent for a vacuum cleaner — most people simply spelled a broom to clean for them.

"What does it run on?" Cougar asked, turning his head to look at Mr. Jensen — who was standing just a little bit closer than Cougar had expected.

His eyes really were ridiculously blue.

"I told you," Mr. Jensen replied with a slight frown, "it runs on magic."

"Magic," Cougar deadpanned, not sure whether the twist in his gut was apprehension or something else — maybe caused by the fact that Mr. Jensen still wasn't backing away.

Cougar realized that it might actually be up to him to do so.

He didn't.

"Yes, magic. That's what I was trying to tell you." Mr. Jensen shifted to stand on two feet again, which only really brought him closer to Cougar. "I've been working on a way to use magic as an energy source in non-magical tech. It's tricky because they're not at all meant to mix, but it can be done."

Cougar blinked. If that was true, which — considering the growling fridge just a couple of feet away — seemed highly likely, Mr. Jensen had just managed something of such magnitude that Cougar couldn't even comprehend it. No one had ever managed to mix technology and magic before. It simply wasn't possible.

"The, uh, side effect," Mr. Jensen continued, fingers sliding along Cougar's when he lowered his wand, "is a slight sense of... well, awareness. They become sentient."

Cougar wondered if Mr. Jensen could feel how quickly his pulse was beating, seeing as his fingers stayed loosely wrapped around Cougar's wrist.

This was more than just an average house call — this was _monumental_.

Cougar flicked a glance at Pooch, who looked just as stunned. Mr. Jensen, on the other hand, didn't seem aware of the fact that he had just successfully broken the laws of physics, nature, and magic — all in one go.

This was the kind of scientific discovery that only occurred once every five thousand years.

"I'm attempting it on my computer next, just to see if—"

"No," Cougar interrupted firmly, grabbing Mr. Jensen's arm, perhaps a bit tighter than necessary. "No computers."

By the looks of it, Mr. Jensen might very well succeed in creating the world's first truly sentient computer and, possibly — with their luck — bring about the end of the world.

"What? But—"

"I think you better come with us, Mr. Jensen," Pooch said, sounding less stern than his words suggested. "Back to headquarters. And bring the vacuum cleaner."

Mr. Jensen blinked, already attempting to take a step back. Cougar's hand slid lower, gently grabbing Mr. Jensen's wrist.

"You're not arrested," he soothed, which might not be entirely true. Cougar was still unsure of what laws applied to this case and just how illegal Mr. Jensen was being, but _he_ had no intention of arresting Mr. Jensen, at least. He would make sure that Pooch didn't either. "But we need more details."

That blue gaze flicked back and forth between Pooch and Cougar for a tense second, then Mr. Jensen's shoulder lowered. His nod was cautious, but he didn't look ready to bolt, either.

Cougar made sure to smile, which was uncommon enough during house calls that he saw Pooch do a double take. "Trust me," he said, holding Mr. Jensen's gaze.

A second passed, then another, before Mr. Jensen swallowed and nodded. He didn't pull his hand away, still standing a little closer than strictly necessary. When he looked at Cougar, he did so through his lashes, which made him appear disarmingly shy.

"Okay," Mr. Jensen said. "I trust you."

And that, right there, made Cougar wonder if Clay would be terribly mad at him if he decided to ask this possibly illegal — but definitely creative — genius out for a date. Well, after they had escorted Mr. Jensen back to headquarters and the investigation was over, of course. Protocol was still important.

Judging by Mr. Jensen's tentative smile, the answer would be yes.

Cougar smiled back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have a small, chubby yellow vacuum cleaner, but his name is Rolfy, not Dusty.
> 
> And is it possible to do what JJ just did? Probably not. But just roll with it.


	12. Say It With Stolen Shirts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** [Mallior](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallior) asked for "Is that my shirt?" from [THIS](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/146712778193/ghostling-four-word-prompts-please-come) prompt post.
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / None
> 
> **Notes:** Usually, I have a habit of making JJ into the oblivious one who pines for Cougar, but this time I wanted to turn the tables. I fully believe that Cougar can get the kind of tunnel vision where he doesn’t see Jensen flirting with him simply because he’s too busy telling himself not to flirt with Jensen. So here, have some pining Cougar!  
> [Original post can be found here.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/156453073707/hi-for-the-four-word-promt-is-that-my-shirt)

 

"Is that my shirt?" Cougar asked, frowning at Jensen from across the kitchen table.

First of all, Jensen rarely wore t-shirts without prints on them, or in colors as non-offensive as steel blue. Second, it was a little tighter over the shoulders than Jensen usually preferred. Not so much that it looked bad — quite the opposite, a traitorous part of Cougar's mind pointed out — but just enough to make Cougar believe that Jensen hadn't bought it himself.

Jensen looked up from his breakfast. The blue of the shirt made his eyes seem even brighter, which was thoroughly distracting — not to mention unfair.

"Is it?" Jensen looked down at himself, pulling on the fabric to get a better look. "I don't know? I found it in my drawer."

He looked so genuinely confused that Cougar didn't have the heart to insist.

"Never mind," he said, shaking his head before taking another sip of coffee. There might have been a mix up during their laundry — Jensen was notoriously bad at paying attention while performing household chores — but that wasn't something Cougar was prepared to get upset over so early in the morning. He would just make sure to reclaim his shirt after Jensen had washed it.

Besides, he was pretty sure that the shirt looked better on Jensen than it ever had on Cougar.

That thought was quickly shoved aside — it wasn't the kind of thing one should notice about their best friend. Just like Cougar shouldn't be so pleased to see Jensen in clothes of his, something warm and bordering on possessive curling in the pit of his stomach.

Despite his best efforts, Cougar found that he kept sneaking more and more glances as their breakfast continued, so distracted that he almost forgot to eat. Jensen really did look good in that color. And Cougar was clearly slipping. He looked down at his coffee, determined to stop staring — nothing good would come of that.

The only saving grace was that Jensen seemed completely oblivious to the extra attention he was getting.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, it happened again.

"That is my shirt." Cougar stood in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

Jensen looked up from where he lay sprawled on the couch, one foot propped up on the armrests and the other flat on the floor. He looked effortlessly attractive, all loose-limbed and relaxed. Cougar's heart might have skipped a beat, just a little, but he vehemently ignored it.

"What?" Jensen's laptop was balanced on his chest, but that didn't hide what shirt he was wearing.

Cougar pointed at him. "My shirt."

It was Cougar's white Henley. Jensen had pushed up the sleeves and kept the collar unbuttoned — which did amazing things to his collar bones — and Cougar had to remind himself to stay on track. That was easier said than done, however.

"Oh." Jensen blinked, then smiled. "Sorry about that. I'll give it back to you later, promise."

That seemed to be the end of that discussion. Jensen shifted, repositioning his laptop, and suddenly Cougar was trying desperately not to notice how the shirt had slid higher, just enough to show a glimpse of Jensen's bare stomach. Cougar already knew what Jensen looked like naked — they'd undressed in front of each other on missions, not to mention showered after drills — but seeing that forbidden sliver of skin was different. It felt more tantalizing when Cougar knew it wasn't planned.

With effort, Cougar was able to tear his gaze away. He shouldn't be noticing these things about Jensen. Cougar had been _so good_ at not reacting to them, but seeing Jensen in his clothes made the challenge twice as difficult. Sharing clothes usually indicated a level of intimacy that would make it okay for Cougar to bury his face against Jensen's neck and lick those frustratingly distracting collar bones of his.

"Did you want anything else?" Jensen asked, looking innocent and sincere like only he could.

Cougar was tempted to reply, "A kiss," but he bit his tongue and shook his head instead.

He couldn't act on those thoughts, he told himself as he turned and left the living room — not ever. But Jensen sure as hell made it difficult to remember that sometimes.

 

* * *

 

The third time it happened, Cougar's annoyance got the better of him. He usually tried not to get angry with Jensen over small things — it felt like kicking a particularly devoted puppy — but his patience was already fraying around the edges. It was getting more and more difficult to curb all those urges Cougar refused to acknowledge, those that told him to wrap his arms around Jensen and just never let go.

So when he walked into the kitchen one morning and saw that Jensen was wearing one of his V-necks, Cougar felt a flare of anger. Jensen might be sloppy when it came to his laundry, but this was getting ridiculous. Mostly, though, Cougar was angry at himself for finding Jensen so attractive.

Jensen was pouring himself a cup of coffee while talking to Pooch, who sat by the kitchen table with an indulgent smile on his face. Jensen stopped when Cougar stalked towards him, all smiles and bright blue eyes.

That only made Cougar more frustrated.

"Morning, Cougs! You want some—"

"That's mine," Cougar snapped, fierce enough to make Jensen's eyes widen.

"Uh..." Jensen glanced hesitantly at Pooch, as if he didn't understand what Cougar was referring to and was asking for assistance. But he _had_ to know.

"Stop. Stealing. My. Shirts." Cougar enunciated each word clearly, adding more emphasis by reaching out and tugging on the shirt in question.

"Oh! Shit!" Jensen looked down at himself. "I am _so_ sorry, Cougs. I honestly don't know why this keeps happening."

He sounded genuinely sorry, but Cougar was too frustrated to care.

"Give it back," Cougar said through gritted teeth.

Pooch was watching them like a tennis match.

"Of course. Yes. Sorry." Jensen hastily put the coffee pot and half-filled cup on the counter, then, without further ado, grabbed the back of the shirt and tugged it over his head in one smooth motion.

Cougar really should have thought this through.

"I am _so_ sorry. I won't happen again, I promise." Jensen pushed the shirt into Cougar's hands, looking regretful and sincere — all while being shockingly, _gloriously_ half-naked.

Cougar couldn't even recall the last time his words had backfired on him in such a spectacular fashion. This was why he didn't _do_ words.

He couldn't quite find any to reply with, either, gripping the shirt tightly in his hands while staring at Jensen's face. Cougar knew that his own expression didn't reveal his inner turmoil, but he was having a very hard time not letting his gaze stray downwards. He knew there would be a seemingly endless expanse of soft, pale skin and muscles for him to feast his eyes on, but he refused to succumb to the temptation.

Jensen looked a little awkward, but Cougar had a feeling it wasn't because of his nakedness.

"I'll, uh, be right back," Jensen said, stepping around Cougar to leave the kitchen. "I need to find another shirt."

Cougar didn't reply and neither did Pooch. It wasn't until they heard Jensen's steps thunder up the stairs that Pooch started snickering.

Automatically, Cougar turned to look at him.

"Oh, man. I seriously can't figure out if you're just stringing him along or seriously haven't figured it out yet," Pooch said, grinning from ear to ear.

Cougar was grateful for his poker face in that moment, since frowning would have let Pooch know it was the latter.

What had Cougar missed?

"Fair warning," Pooch continued, "he's going to get more and more blatant the longer you wait. Maybe you should just get it over with?"

Cougar would, if he had known what Pooch was referring to. As much as Cougar hated to admit to being wrong or not knowing something, this was one of those times when he had to swallow his pride and do just that.

"Do what?" he asked.

A beat of silence, then Pooch's eyes widened with surprise. "You really don't know?"

Cougar shook his head.

"Oh. Well, uh..." Pooch glanced to the side, looking a little uncomfortable. "I'm not sure if I'm the one who should tell you, in that case. I really thought you knew."

A delicately raised eyebrow made Pooch hold up his hands in surrender.

"Okay fine! I'm just genuinely surprised you haven't figured it out yet." Pooch lowered his hands, then shrugged. "To put it simply, J keeps stealing your clothes because he wants you to rip them off."

Cougar frowned. "Why would—"

Oh.

_Oh._

How could he have missed that?

Well, probably because he was so focused on _not_ ripping Jensen's clothes off, be they his own or Cougar's. He didn't see what Jensen was trying to tell him because Cougar was already thinking it, but was sure he shouldn't be.

Somehow, Cougar hadn't expected this, which made him feel pretty stupid. He should have realized that not even Jensen could mess up this many times. He was very particular about his shirts and odds were he knew exactly which ones he owned and, consequentially, would recognize the ones that weren't his.

The most surprising part by far was that Cougar hadn't been able to tell that Jensen had been acting all along — usually, he never managed to lie to Cougar. Clearly, Cougar had underestimated him, and had gotten this attraction all wrong; it wasn't unrequited after all.

Cougar gave Pooch a firm nod, offering credit where credit was due. "Thank you."

"Anytime, man." Pooch shook his head with a smile. "Just... try not to be too loud, okay?"

Cougar only grinned, winked, and turned to follow after Jensen.

"Cougar! Promise me!" Pooch shouted after him, but Cougar did no such thing. He had never been in favor of telling Jensen to be quiet, and he had a feeling he wouldn't this time either.

Not that he went straight to see Jensen, no matter what Pooch seemed to think. Considering how much effort Jensen had put into this thing, it was only fair if Cougar did the same.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Jensen burst into Cougar's room without knocking — he never did anymore — practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was wearing his own shirt for once, hair more spiky than usual, and had a big grin on his face. Cougar didn't bother to get up from where he was lying on his bed, ankles crossed and book in hand.

"Cougs! Do you want to watch—" Jensen blinked, confusion written all over his face. "Wait, is that my shirt?"

Cougar looked down at the shirt he was wearing, trying not to smile at the mating Imperial Walkers. Stupid as the motif might be, it was one of his favorites — on Jensen, at least. It was surprisingly comfortable too.

He met Jensen's gaze, maintaining a calm, almost bored, expression.

"Yes," he said.

Jensen tilted his head to the side, much like a bewildered puppy. "But... why?"

Cougar slipped in his bookmark, closed the book, and placed it on his bedside table. "Why did you wear mine?" he asked as he sat up.

"I didn't mean to," Jensen replied, but now that Cougar knew to look for it, he could see the lie. Jensen was just a little too casual — his words more innocent than they would be if he had been, well, _innocent_.

"Yes, you did."

Jensen opened his mouth — probably to deny the accusation — but one look from Cougar and he shut his mouth with a clack. His shoulders slumped, ever so slightly, and his smile looked a little off-center.

"Sorry." He didn't sound particularly sorry. Disappointed, yes, but not sorry.

Cougar gave him a crooked smile, not wanting Jensen to think he was angry at him. "You could have asked."

"I don't actually need to borrow clothes from you, Cougar," Jensen replied. "I have my own."

"Not that," Cougar said, getting up from his bed to stand in front of Jensen. "This."

The kiss clearly took Jensen by surprise, going by the noise he let out. Cougar kept it simple — just a soft press of lips that somehow still managed to send a shiver down his spine — before he drew back. Jensen blinked, obviously needing a second to reboot. Eventually, a smile began to grow on his lips.

"Finally." Jensen's hands settled on Cougar's waist, bold yet gentle. Cougar could feel the warmth of Jensen's palms through the fabric of his stolen shirt. "Took you long enough."

Cougar rolled his eyes. "Use words next time."

That would have saved them a whole lot of time _and_ made Cougar less frustrated.

Jensen simply laughed and moved in for another kiss, this one deeper, slower, and infinitely better. Cougar could definitely get used to this, a pleasant tingle spreading under his skin when Jensen's tongue slid against his.

"Hey," Jensen said, pulling back much too soon, "does this mean I have to stop wearing your shirts?"

If Jensen wanted to keep wearing his clothes, Cougar certainly wouldn't complain. There was still something awfully satisfying about seeing Jensen in something of his, however embarrassing it was to admit it. Cougar was usually above those kinds of primitive instincts.

But not always, it seemed.

So he shook his head before pulling Jensen closer by his collar. "No," he replied, words hot against Jensen's lips. "Never stop."

Jensen grinned and kissed him again.

It didn't take long for Cougar to decide that he never wanted Jensen to stop doing that either.

 


	13. Let Me Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** [minister-of-silly-walks](http://minister-of-silly-walks.tumblr.com/) asked for "You love me, right?" from [THIS](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/146712778193/ghostling-four-word-prompts-please-come) prompt post.
> 
>  **Rating/Warnings:** G / None (except angst)
> 
>  **Notes:** While this could easily be a cute and playful prompt, I ended up going for angst instead. And it got longer than I had planned, for reasons I still haven't quite been able to figure out. Anyhow. While badass Jensen is without a doubt my favourite Jensen, I sometimes feel a need for angsty Jensen, so this is that. But, because I'm a rebel, I decided to write the thing from Cougar's POV, as seems to be my habit right now. Enjoy!  
> [Original post can be found here](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/157536478326/prompts-yes-i-have-two-for-you-if-youre) and [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/carpedentum) betaed!

 

Cougar was, if he dared say so himself, an expert on the subject of Jacob Jensen. The majority of it was due to practice — he had spent enough time in Jensen's presence to figure out most of his quirks — but he also made a special effort to remember each new thing he learned.

Jacob Jensen was fascinating.

They might not have started out that way — Cougar had been unimpressed by Jensen's loud talking and exuberant personality during their first couple of missions together — but as he had come to know him, well, Jensen had become quite impossible to resist. There was just something so genuine about him. He was happy and carefree and shared his enthusiasm with the world without a second thought.

He was, in lack of a better word, innocent. Almost breathtakingly pure in a way that Cougar felt drawn to, simply for how radiant Jensen was.

Jensen wasn't perfect, and certainly not defenseless or harmless, but he did give Cougar a sense of safety and stability that no one else could. At his core, Jensen was kind, fiercely loyal, and very protective of those he cared about. Cougar trusted Jensen to always have his best interest at heart, which allowed Cougar to lower many of the walls he had built up over the years.

He had no defenses against someone like Jensen, who smiled that soft smile of his and touched Cougar with such reverence.

Most days, Cougar couldn't help but marvel at how lucky he was. It felt almost surreal to be allowed to wake up next to Jensen every morning. To see his face relaxed in sleep, and trace looping patterns on his bare skin. No one but Cougar had that, and he still wasn't sure why he had been given the privilege.

Whatever the reason, he made sure to make the most of it.

He learned what made Jensen laugh, how to ground him when he got too intense, and just exactly where to kiss and touch to make Jensen moan in ecstasy. Cougar knew Jensen better than anyone, because there was just no way he couldn't. Everything about Jensen fascinated him. He loved every inch of him, horrible shirts and poor taste in music included.

Cougar told Jensen this, as often as possible. Not always with words — he and Jensen rarely needed them — but with his actions and the looks they shared. Usually, this was more than enough. They gravitated towards one another in a way that left no doubt about where they belonged.

They _aligned_ , like two pieces of a whole.

So the day when Jensen actually asked, Cougar knew right away that something was wrong.

"You love me, right?"

Cougar looked up from the gun he was cleaning, surprised by Jensen's words. They were on a mission in Peru, Clay and Roque laying out plans in the next room, and Cougar couldn't for the life of him understand why Jensen asked.

If Jensen had been smiling Cougar wouldn't have worried, but the look on Jensen's face said that this wasn't a joke. A small wrinkle of doubt had settled between his eyebrows, and Cougar felt a pang when he saw it.

Why was Jensen suddenly doubting whether or not Cougar loved him?

"Yes, of course," Cougar replied, keeping his voice calm even if he desperately wanted to question why Jensen even had to ask. Had Cougar done something?

Jensen sat motionless for a couple of seconds, not meeting Cougar's gaze, then nodded. He managed a brittle smile before turning back to his computer, but that was in no way a comfort. Something was wrong, and Cougar had no idea what. He usually knew everything there was to know about Jensen, but he hadn't seen this coming.

A cold lump of dread settled in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

The second time it happened, they were wrapped up in each other's arms, sheets twisted around them and moonlight streaming in through the window of their bedroom.

"You love me, right?" Jensen whispered into the darkness, the words fragile in a way that made Cougar's breath catch. His hand stopped combing through Jensen's tousled hair, that same unsettling dread gnawing inside of him.

"Yes, always." Cougar knew his words were a little hoarse — probably enough for Jensen to notice.

What had Cougar done to make Jensen doubt him?

While Cougar had the utmost respect for Jensen's privacy, this was one of the times when he felt that he couldn't simply brush it off and let the silence swallow them again. His fingertip wandered gently down Jensen's temple, to the edge of his eyebrow, then further down his cheekbone.

"Why do you ask?" Cougar kept his voice light, without accusation, but fear was beginning to gather in his chest.

What had he done wrong?

Jensen stiffened in his arms, if only for a split second, then forcibly relaxed again. "Nothing special," he replied. "Just making sure."

Cougar heard the lie — Jensen never had learned how to lie to him properly — but couldn't bring himself to confront Jensen with it. He was too afraid.

Jensen shouldn't have to make sure.

Cougar tried to remember if he had been negligent lately, but apart from that carefully whispered question, Jensen had seemed happy. He smiled just as brightly, talked just as loudly, and kissed with as much abandon as usual.

In lack of a better solution, Cougar pulled Jensen closer, hoping that would lend weight to his words.

" _Te amo_ ," he said.

Jensen's hand wandered up along Cougar's side, familiar and confident — none of his previous uncertainty showing.

"I love you too, Cougar." Jensen's tone said that there had to be a smile on his lips, but Cougar still couldn't swallow down the fear.

Something was wrong.

 

* * *

 

The third time it happened, Cougar took Jensen's face between his hands and kissed him as softly and tenderly as possible, whispering his love against Jensen's lips. After a couple of seconds, the tense line of Jensen's shoulder lowered and his smile became genuine yet again, his blue, blue eyes clear of doubts.

Cougar, on the other hand, felt his desperation grow.

 

* * *

 

The first clue to what was wrong came from Jensen himself, though Clay was technically the one to blame.

They were on another mission and Jensen had finished his preparations early. That, as usual, meant that he came to bother Cougar instead, who was studying a map of the compound they were about to hit, trying to pinpoint the best vantage points.

Jensen was giving a lecture about stingrays, chin propped up in one hand while the other was spinning one of Cougar's bullets round and round on the tabletop. The chatter was comforting, even if Cougar had to admit that he made no real effort to remember the information. It was one thing to carefully catalogue each nuance of Jensen's expressions or his likes and dislikes, but another one entirely to try and keep up with all the information Jensen kept inside that beautiful mind of his.

Cougar knew he was a lot of things, but he was nowhere near as clever as Jacob Jensen.

When the door opened and Clay walked in, Cougar didn't bother to look up — at least not until Clay spoke.

"Jensen." There was an unusual sharpness in Clay's voice — a hint of a reprimand that made no sense to Cougar.

Jensen hadn't done anything. Well, _lately_.

Cougar would know, since he kept track of every prank and bad idea that Jensen decided to put into action, if only so that he could bail him out when things inevitably got out of hand.

To Cougar's surprise — and worry — Jensen shut his mouth and looked _guilty_ , of all things. Usually, Clay's complaints rolled off him without making much of an impact, but this clearly wasn't one of those times. The look that passed between Jensen and Clay only seemed to confirm it, Jensen averting his gaze almost immediately.

"I need to double check the comms equipment," Jensen mumbled before pushing up from the table. He walked away without as much as a glance in Cougar's direction, leaving him bereft.

Cougar looked at Clay — hoping he had some answers — but when the colonel's only response was a stern glare, Cougar kept quiet. He knew better than to question his CO, even if the dejected slump of Jensen's shoulders made Cougar's protective instincts rear their head.

They only grew when Jensen clung to him two nights later — when the mission was over and they had returned home, finally able to sleep in their shared bed again. Jensen didn't ask him if he loved him that time, but Cougar knew that the only reason Jensen didn't was because Cougar told him preemptively.

He whispered the words into Jensen's skin, interspersed with gentle kisses, hoping their impressions would remain long enough to hold Jensen's doubts at bay — at least until Cougar figured out what was wrong.

He would get to the bottom of this.

 

* * *

 

As the weeks passed, Jensen started behaving more and more out of character. He still smiled, but talked less. He kept his distance during missions, carefully tucked away in a corner with his computers. He often seemed to be making himself smaller, taking up less and less space until Cougar found that he wasn't even sure where Jensen was half of the time. It was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Jensen was slipping away from him and Cougar didn't know why.

Cougar got the feeling that Jensen was trying to disappear, but every time he asked if something was wrong, Jensen pretended not to know what he was talking about.

 

* * *

 

The answer arrived, as painful revelations tended to do, with enough force to knock Cougar's breath out of his lungs.

While the Losers often kept to themselves — mostly due to their less than flattering reputation — it wasn't unheard of that they went out for drinks with other soldiers. Pooch in particular was in high demand, and Cougar kept in sporadic touch with some guys from his training days. It was nice to expand their limited bubble of social interaction every once in a while, if only to remind themselves that they did, in fact, live in the real world.

It was on one of those nights that Cougar finally understood what had been bothering Jensen.

Pooch, Cougar, and Jensen had been joined by two other soldiers stationed at the same base, both of which Cougar knew well enough to be able to relax in front of — if only slightly. It was when Jensen had walked over to the bar to get them the next round that things took a turn for the worse.

"Man," Peters said, "I don't know how you guys do it, but I'm impressed."

"Do what?" Pooch asked before finishing off his beer.

"Put up with him." Peters nodded towards the bar where Jensen was chatting with the bartender, a wide, innocent smile on his lips.

Cougar stiffened, tension seeping back into his spine. He ignored the worried glance Pooch shot him, feeling his hackles rise. Jensen had actually been unusually quiet that evening, as seemed to be his new habit.

"Hey, no offense," Garcia cut in, perhaps aware enough of Cougar's body language to tell that Peters had just stumbled into dangerous territory. "He's just very intense, you know?"

Cougar did know, but hearing someone say it — especially like that — set his teeth on edge. Peters and Garcia weren't supposed to know about the true depth of Cougar and Jensen's relationship, but _everyone_ knew that they were friends. Cougar didn't like it when people insulted his friends.

Peters snorted. "He _never_ shuts up. And he's annoying as f—"

"He's not that bad once you get to know him," Pooch interrupted. He had to know where this would end if Peters didn't shut up. Cougar's grip around his beer bottle was tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Yeah, but why would you want to?" Peters asked, frowning.

Cougar sincerely hoped Peters had only had too much to drink. If not, Cougar wouldn't care if they court marshaled him — he would launch himself across the table and punch Peters in the face. Of course Cougar knew that Jensen was far from perfect — he knew so better than anyone — but hearing someone insult him so plainly made Cougar's blood boil.

There was nothing _wrong_ with Jensen, and Cougar's life had changed for the better since he met him.

"I mean," Peters continued, "what do you get out of being friends with someone like him? Except a headache."

Pooch's hand shot out and grabbed Cougar's arm, no doubt trying to prevent him from knocking Peters' teeth out. A vicious snarl was building at the back of Cougar's throat, but before he had time to move, five beer bottles were placed on their table, loudly enough to draw everyone's attention.

"Not much, I imagine," Jensen replied as he sank back into his seat, a wide grin on his face.

He didn't even have to ask who they were talking about.

Cougar's heart clenched, because he could tell the difference between Jensen joking and Jensen being painfully serious while trying to hide it behind carelessness — and this was the latter. The smile wasn't faked, but only because Jensen truly believed what he was saying.

Jensen started handing out the bottles, bumping Cougar's shoulder when he nudged one closer to Cougar's lax hand. Cougar had been about to brace himself against the table and reach out for Peters, but now couldn't bring himself to move, the disbelief heavy and uncomfortable in his chest.

"To be honest," Jensen carried on with a nonchalant shrug, "they're probably better off without me."

Peters and Garcia laughed, clearly thinking Jensen was in on the joke — no hard feelings — but Cougar knew that wasn't it. Jensen agreed with them — he was being absolutely serious. When he laughed it was at his own expense, yes, but not in a humorous way.

He _agreed_ with them.

"In that case," Peters said, still chuckling, "you're lucky to have people willing to put up with you."

Jensen grinned, as if those words weren't horribly insulting. "I know."

Cougar felt sick.

Was this why Jensen kept asking Cougar if he loved him? He thought he was so unbearable that Cougar might stop loving him from one day to the next?

Pooch had clearly picked up on the wrongness of Jensen's words, shooting Cougar a concerned look, but there wasn't much either of them could do right at that moment. Peters had already changed the subject and Garcia easily joined it.

Jensen, however, did not.

Cougar was acutely aware of the fact that Jensen didn't say another word for the rest of the evening, even if he kept listening and smiling, behaving as if it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to suddenly become silent. Cougar could barely stand it.

He didn't get a chance to confront Jensen about it that night, however, since as soon as they got back to the house, a tipsy Jensen crashed into bed and fell asleep almost instantly. Cougar sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers carefully combing through Jensen's spiky blond tresses while listening to his calm, rhythmic breaths. Questions were burning inside of Cougar and he couldn't push down the surge of worry and anger that Peters' words had caused.

How did anyone even dare to insinuate that Jensen was a burden? That his quirks and habits were in any way offensive? That Cougar was the one who had been handed the short end of the stick?

On some days, the thought of Jensen was the only thing keeping Cougar sane. There were times when Cougar lost himself in the nightmares and memories, and only Jensen's soft, gentle touches could bring him back to reality.

He needed Jensen just as much — if not more — than Jensen needed him. If anyone was a burden, it was Cougar.

And to suggest that Cougar in any way felt obligated to stay with Jensen, or even that he thought it was a hardship, was simply ludicrous. He could barely even remember who he had been before meeting Jensen, but he knew for a fact that he hadn't liked that man very much. Jensen was, in so many ways, the center of Cougar's universe, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

It seemed, however, that he had to convince Jensen of that too.

 

* * *

 

Cougar knew that Clay must have said something to Jensen to make him behave the way he did on missions — probably reprimanded him for distracting his teammates, Cougar in particular. The problem being, of course, that Clay was wrong. And while Cougar respected Clay as his superior officer, Jensen's needs and well-being would always take priority in Cougar's eyes. He would disobey orders for Jensen, and he definitely wouldn't hesitate to silently undermine Clay in a situation where he was trying to stifle Jensen's personality and general happiness.

Cougar knew he had to be discreet about it, however. That would be safer, first of all, because Clay couldn't accuse Cougar of insubordination if he never outright said anything to defy him. It would also be more satisfying, once Clay finally found out what Cougar was up to.

To many, Jensen might seem like the one most likely to knowingly be a pain in the ass to his superior, but he was a _saint_ compared to Cougar.

Besides, as talkative as Jensen was, he wasn't overly fond of conflicts. Cougar had already asked him what was wrong, time and time again, but Jensen obviously didn't want Cougar to know. So this was clearly one of those times when it was better to _show_ Jensen what he meant, rather than attempt to rely on words.

In all honesty, Cougar knew Clay wasn't intentionally trying to hurt Jensen — his main concern was, in all likelihood, the effectiveness of the team — but he went about it the wrong way. Jensen's talking was grounding, not distracting, and a miserable Jensen was more likely to make mistakes than a happy one.

So Cougar did what he could to undo Clay's work.

He started joining Jensen in his little corner during missions, not necessarily to talk, but to show that he didn't want there to be such a distance between them. Cougar simply sat next to him — touching him if he could — and let Jensen work, but made sure to listen attentively whenever Jensen _did_ dare to speak. Since _Cougar_ was the one seeking Jensen out at _his_ station, Clay had no power.

He wasn't stupid enough to ask Cougar to move.

As for the rest, it was impossible for Cougar to stop people from saying hurtful things in Jensen's presence — most were wise enough to do so only when Cougar wasn't around — but he could counteract their words with some of his own. He made sure to tell Jensen that he loved him, as often as possible, partly to save himself the agony of having Jensen ask him. Mostly, though, it was to see the shy, happy smile on Jensen's lips.

Thankfully enough, he never seemed to doubt Cougar's sincerity, so whatever troubled him was, in all probability, a result of too much thinking and worrying on Jensen's part. He just needed reminders, that was all, and Cougar was more than happy to give them if it made Jensen feel less insecure.

Little by little, Jensen began to relax. He still held back on the more enthusiastic rants and spoke softer than usual, but he regained some of his confidence.

Cougar hated that Jensen had lost it in the first place.

By the time Clay realized what was going on, Jensen was more or less back to his usual self, at least outside missions. And whenever Clay tried to say something to impede Jensen's progress, Cougar shot him a murderous glare. It was surprisingly effective, probably because Clay didn't want the headache he'd get from trying to step between Cougar and Jensen.

Cougar had killed men for less.

All in all, the fix was relatively simple, even if it took weeks to accomplish. It was worth it, however, the day Jensen was able to smile without that heartbreaking hint of uncertainty and launch into an excited lecture about the moon landing. Cougar would never tire of listening to Jensen speak, simple as that.

The knot of dread began to loosen.

 

* * *

 

Cougar woke slowly, pulled from his sleep by gentle fingertips tracing the bridge of his nose. He kept his eyes closed while Jensen's fingers wandered on, down along his cheek before following the curve of his jaw.

"You are so beautiful."

Cougar couldn't help the soft snort he let out, opening his eyes to look at Jensen. The blinds were barely keeping out the morning sun, bright lines of light slanting across Jensen's bare shoulder. Jensen hadn't even bothered to reach for his glasses, which made Cougar wonder just how reliable his observations were.

"I mean it," Jensen insisted, his smile fond. He leaned in, rubbing his nose against Cougar's. "Thank you."

Again, Cougar couldn't help snorting. "For being beautiful?"

Jensen laughed, treading his fingers through Cougar's hair before his hand settled at the back of Cougar's neck. "No," he said, "for what you did. It took me a while to figure it out, but I know what you did."

Cougar wasn't surprised, to be honest. While he knew Jensen better than anyone, there was little he managed — or wanted — to hide from Jensen in turn. He must have noticed the changes in Cougar's behavior, be they small, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why Cougar had done it.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for Jensen, and showering him with attention wasn't exactly a hardship.

"I love you," Jensen said, words whispered with warmth and reverence.

Finally, Cougar felt the last remnants of dread slip away.

"I love you too," he replied.

Jensen leaned in and kissed him.

 


	14. Infinite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating/Warnings:** G / None
> 
>  **Notes:** I literally have no idea. I wrote this a while ago and it's been sitting on my computer for ages. But today I decided to clear out old WIPs that will never get finished and, well, I figured I might as well publish it. This is a little different from my usual writing, but I kinda like it.

 

Your eyes are always blue. As much as the world changes around us and we with it, that remains constant.

Your eyes are always brilliantly blue.

Sometimes I try to name the specific color, but not a single word in my vocabulary ever comes close. Expressing myself verbally will never be one of my strengths, even if I'm not always taciturn. Sometimes I speak more, but never at length — certainly never as much as you do.

Except that one time when you were quiet and subdued, your smiles as careful as the soft touches of your fingertips against my skin. There was a delicacy to you that time that still baffles me, simply for how rare it was. I know that you have always had that gentleness inside of you — for all your brashness and energy you have a softness that is almost shocking — and I treasure every memory of it that I have been fortunate enough to witness.

I don't know who breathed life into our existence — who made sure that our lives, no matter how complicated or different — would always entwine, but I thank them. I have seen you live and die more times than I can count, but I don't regret a single one.

To this day I don't understand it. Sometimes I don't even remember having known you before. There are times when I look at you with new eyes and don't like what I see — lives during which we argue or mistrust each other — but that rarely lasts. Sooner or later the world rights itself. Sooner or later we find each other.

I still remember the first time I saw you.

It was like finding purpose, even if I didn't know I needed one. It was like coming home, even if I didn't know that I was looking for one. It was my first life and I think I understood what was happening as little as you did, but I felt the pull — just like you did.

I have never felt anything like it and doubt that I ever will again. Nothing can compare to you, or the feeling of finally finding you, after years apart. That first time I didn't even know what I had been missing until you were there. Your voice resonated within my very core — like a call I had to answer — and your smile was enough to make my breath catch.

I felt it then, as I do now. The pull that binds us together is a constant hum at the back of my mind, even if I might not always understand it — I definitely didn't the first time. It was only after a number of lives that I understood the truth of our existence.

Without you there is no me, and without me there can be no you.

We are forever entwined, and forever in love.

We are infinite, you and I.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I planned some kind of series with various AUs? Like, star-crossed lovers? This was the only one I wrote though *shrugs*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Caught in the Headlights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7414993) by [Gothams_Only_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/pseuds/Gothams_Only_Wolf)




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